


Parting Gifts

by frostian



Category: No Fandom
Genre: F/M, I'm from the Gamma Quadrant., M/M, My first RPF. If this is anywhere near the truth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-05
Updated: 2020-06-05
Packaged: 2021-03-10 01:06:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 34,450
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27835747
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostian/pseuds/frostian
Summary: Jared Padalecki lost his husband, Jensen Ackles, through neglect.  Then the real nightmare begins when a group kidnaps Jensen and ransoms him for fifteen million dollars.  The problem isn't paying the money: it's getting Jensen back alive and in one piece.
Relationships: JA/JP - Relationship
Kudos: 2





	1. Chapter 1

**Day One**

Jared Padalecki was nowhere near drunk enough to forget what had crawled out of his mouth an hour ago. Was it an hour? Maybe two, or three even. He wasn’t sure anymore and that was fine with him. Still, Jared couldn’t stop fingering his cell as he finished his third whisky. He really should find out what Jensen’s response was to his summation of their ruined marriage.

“Do you know what I think, Jen? Honestly? If you’re that pissed with me then grow a fucking pair and leave. And while you’re at it, take Anna with you ‘cause as far as she’s concerned I’m not her daddy but some jackass who pays the goddamn bills!”

Jared choked down the bile that suddenly rose from his alcohol-soaked gut. With great trepidation he called Jensen’s private number, equally hoping and dreading his husband would pick up. It went straight into voicemail. Not surprising since that was one of Jensen’s tactical moves when he was channeling his inner bitch. Feeling overwhelmingly pissed himself Jared slammed the cell phone on the bar and ordered a fourth.

“You sure you want to do that, pal?” The bartender asked with genuine concern. “I know the old lady must have been a royal pain in the ass tonight, but you’re already in bad shape and another drink isn’t going to help matters.”

Jared caught the man’s surreptitious glance towards the hotel security guard standing at the bar’s entrance. He tried to flash his trademark grin but failed miserably due to the fact he couldn’t forget the venomous words he spat out earlier. “I’m a big boy. I just need one more to make it all go away.”

The bartender shook his head, “Sorry, but…”

“He’s with me. Don’t worry about it.” A female voice said from behind Jared.

Jared turned to the woman to say his thanks only to have the words stuck on his tongue. The stranger was blessed with what could only be defined as a kick-ass body and thoughtful brown eyes. The combination hit him worse than the three glasses of whisky he had. The two remained tactfully silent when the bartender placed another glass in front of Jared.

“You look like you could use some help. My name is Sandy," she said.

“Thanks for the drink, and I could definitely use a friendly smile, but I’m having a hard time believing you need to ask for company.”

Sandy smiled shyly. “I got stood up, and now I’m being pursued by two drunks who don’t understand what ‘no’ means. I’m staying here tonight and I’m afraid they’re going to follow me to my room. I guess I’m looking for a rescue.”

“Oh, a rescue, now that I can do. By the way, my name’s Jared.”

“Nice to meet you, Jared. Do I detect a genuine Texan accent?”

Jared laughed, “Yep, that’s one-hundred percent genu-ine Texan drawl there. To tell the truth, it’s nothing but lazy talk.”

Sandy shook her head. “One of my supposed suitors was trying to impress me with his so-called Texan accent. I think my college roommate pegged it as something else.”

Jared’s laughter was sharper this time. “One of those. You have my sympathies. By the way, your date’s a total loser.”

Sandy sighed, “I don’t know why I’m so disappointed. I met the guy online, after all. But things were going well for almost a year. Last week I found out that I’ll be in town for business, and I thought it’d be great if we met face to face. He sounded so excited in his e-mails so here I am, in my best black dress and shoes.”

“Trust me, you’re better off. Maybe the guy’s some psycho killer or worse, a dweeb.”

Sandy threw back her head and laughed freely. “Dweeb – oh my God, I haven’t heard that word in ages. But you’re probably right. Mark probably is a dweeb.”

“And a loser, let’s not forget loser.” Jared added, feeling pleasantly light-headed by Sandy’s carefree humor and musky perfume.

“A dweeb and a loser, but he did have one good point.”

“What?”

“Because of him I met my knight in shining armor.”

“I wish that were true, but I’m sorry to say my armor’s tarnished quite a bit.”

“That’s because you actually fought. Nobody could survive in this world without getting a little dirty. Better that than living in an ivory tower.”

“You’re sweet for trying to make me feel better,” Jared said.

He saw the offer in her words and for a moment wondered what it would be like to accept it. No cares about the morning after, what it would all mean or not. He and Jensen had to practically schedule their sex because of their hectic lives, and Jared missed the spontaneity of it. Jensen might have been able to handle the routine of fatherhood but Jared had a hard time accepting the fact that his entire life revolved around a five-year-old girl.

He loved Anna, and would move stars for her, but he missed the private time he shared with Jensen. Jared knew it was selfish but he felt neglected whenever he saw Jensen with their child. The two had bonded very quickly and that relationship flourished while their marriage slowly disintegrated.

And now Jared feared his marriage was no longer salvageable because of the blowout they had earlier. Suddenly, panic overwhelmed him. He could see what his house would be like without his family. The palatial home would be spotless and filled with priceless, fragile things. He could leave his office doors open and there would be no need to keep the expensive alcohol sequestered in a cabinet. The pool would no longer require fencing with a lock system that took Jared half a day to figure out.

However, the silence would be glacial. There would be no evidence of a gleeful little girl being chased around by a grown man – a man whose laughter made seasoned bodyguards smile. Harley and Sadie would probably sun themselves to death, as they would no longer have companions to play with. No toys to trip over, no heart-stopping emergency room visits because of a slip on the marble floors or a covert exploration of the medicine cabinet. He wouldn’t hear the laundry running at three in the morning because of Jensen’s unpredictable bouts of insomnia. He also wouldn’t wake to Jensen’s lazy exploration of his chest with his clever, wonderful tongue.

No gentle music coming from Jensen’s battered guitar. The one Jared fondly called ‘Gunslinger’ because it looked like it was dragged through the twentieth century’s version of the Alamo. Even now he got the shivers, remembering Jensen’s harrowing stories about his heydays working as a refugee camp director in Angola.

“Are you okay?” Sandy asked kindly. “You look a bit pale.”

Jared felt shame flood him as he realized the last thing he needed was her company. A woman like Sandy deserved someone better than a man looking for a quick pity-fuck. Mark, the dweeb and loser, at least had the decency not to take advantage of her.

“I know this is going to make me a bastard but I have to go home,” Jared explained, hoping the genuine regret in his voice would somehow temper the rejection thrown at Sandy’s face. “I shouldn’t have come here. I was running away and nothing good could come out of that.”

Sandy took a deep breath but never broke eye contact. “Yes, you’re right. You should.”

Jared kissed her cheek. “Hope you find your knight damn soon. It’s a crying shame that a girl like you should be in need of one.”

“Thank you, Jared.” She slipped her business card into his jacket pocket. “If you meet one before I do, please direct them my way.”

“Sure will,” Jared answered. “C’mon, let me walk you to the elevator so those assholes won’t follow you.”

“Thank you,” Sandy said with a bright smile. “One left but the other one is still hanging around.”

“Where is he?”

“Your three o’clock, wearing the blue pinstripe suit.”

Jared took a quick glance. “He’s old enough to be your father. Hell, maybe even your grandfather.”

“Now I _really_ like you!” Sandy laughed and linked her arm around his as they exited the bar.

Jared waved good-bye as he watched her enter the hotel elevator. He congratulated himself for avoiding the stupidity of having anonymous sex. He knew only too well that he could never keep something like that a secret for long, especially if he won back Jensen’s trust.

And how the fuck was he going to make up for the shitty stunt he pulled earlier?

First off, he had to go home. In all likelihood he’d probably sleep it off in one of the guest bedrooms, but at least he’ll be with Jensen when his husband woke up. That way he could start the groveling early and wear down Jensen before noon. Jared made a fuzzy list of things to do, starting with calling his office to cancel his appointments.

Hell, he’s the goddamn boss. He’ll just cancel rest of the week and take the family to Texas. Of course, it being December, Jensen might take issue with being stuck in their home state for more than a week. As much as they loved their respective families, hanging around them during the holidays for more than two or three days at a time was taxing on both their patience and sanity. Then, Jared remembered his longtime friend, Chad, boasting about buying a retreat roughly the size of Rhode Island in the Bahamas. He could easily sweet-talk his old buddy into giving him access to the place for the rest of the month if not longer. Jared could simply buy his own place but time was of the essence. He didn’t want Jensen to actually contemplate how pissed he was once Jared successfully wheedled back into his good graces.

Jared called for his car. It took his driver, Demmy, few minutes to bring the custom-made Jaguar to the front of the hotel. To Jared’s amusement he caught Demmy eyeing him warily. He saw how upset Jared was when he stormed out of the house, and the scent of alcohol wafting towards him probably made the man even more anxious.

“Take me home, Demmy,” Jared said softly. “Gotta do some big-time apologizing.”

Demmy shook his head, “Gonna take more than sweet words this time, Sir.”

Jared chuckled, “I know, I know, but I’ve got a great plan. And it’s going to work. You’ll see.”

The driver sighed and gave a measured glance at the rear-view mirror. “You never minded me speaking out so here it is. I’ve been married twenty-seven years now, and I’ve walked out on my wife couple of times. But I never, and I mean never, met anyone or anything that convinced me not to go back. Marriage takes work, sir. More work than running a business, even if that business is a multi-billion dollar empire. And, honestly … at the end of the day, the CEO chair won’t keep your bed warm or make you coffee in the morning when you get up late. It won’t do laundry and make sure you get your flu shot. It sure as hell won’t stand by you when you inevitably screw up.”

“You like Jensen, don’t you?”

“Yes sir, I do. I thought he was a bit cold at first, until Yoshida told me he was just shy. Strange for a man who does all that campaigning for charities, I thought. It took me a while to realize that his shyness makes perfect sense. With you, he’s Jensen, the man. With the public, he’s Mr. Ackles, fundraiser extraordinaire. With you he can walk around in sweats and t-shirts. With everyone else, it’s Hugo Boss suits and Brioni ties. But the real reason I like Mr. Ackles is because he can tell the difference between what is important and what isn’t. I think it’s about time you do too, sir. If you don’t mind my saying.”

“No,” Jared replied hoarsely. “No, I don’t. Thanks, Demmy.”

“Always a pleasure. And I thought you should know - I saw Anna’s Christmas dress. It’s a killer.”

“Really?”

“She looks like an angel, and I’m not exaggerating. Never seen a child so taken with Christmas, like our little Anna. Makes people want to give her Christmas every day of the year.”

Jared felt like someone punched him in the gut. Now that he really gave some thought to the entire situation he knew that was exactly what Jensen’s been doing: trying to make up for all the horrid memories and traumas Anna suffered. It was also obvious to him that Jensen was trying his damn best to make Jared participate in his version of therapy.

No wonder Jensen went apeshit the last two Christmases. The candles, the multiple Christmas trees, the garlands festooning every staircase and chandelier, not to mention swags, bows, and ornaments decorating doors, furniture or any place Jensen could reach. Even the poor dogs ended up with Christmas sweaters and Santa hats strapped onto their heads.

Jared pulled out a picture from his wallet and fingered the humorous figures in it. It featured Sadie and Harley grinning happily in spite of the tacky velvet bows around their necks. In between the dogs was Anna, dressed in her first Christmas outfit. One of five Jensen bought last year. Mercifully he toned it down and now Anna only had to change three times.

Jared heard the familiar crunch of gravel and looked up as the car pulled through the electronic gates. Dismay shot through his nerves as he saw the house was completely dark; not even the decorative Christmas lights were on. Jensen always made sure the sparkling display was on full blast before going to sleep. Jared teased him about wasting electricity and contributing to light pollution. Jensen’s reply to the good-natured ribbing was a loud snort and a second helping of waffles.

Jared took a deep breath and calmed himself. The last thing he needed was to dive into a situation with his emotions running amok. That resolution didn’t last long as he entered the house. The cavernous silence that greeted him as he made his way to the private wing infected his soul with depression. With trembling hands Jared opened the door to Anna’s bedroom. He saw the neatly made bed, the empty space where her Pooh bear reigned over all the other stuffed toys.

Jared entered the master bedroom and disrobed. He dialed the settings to the shower and entered the bathroom only when the steam fogged up the entire room. That way he didn’t have to see the empty containers that once held his husband’s toiletries.

Jared stood under scalding downpour and let the water wash away his foolish hopes. He was too late. Jensen had finally given up on them, and once his husband made up his mind, he was implacable. Besides, Jensen had other worries now, Anna for one. Jared quietly mouthed his daughter’s name and sat down on the smooth wood planks that acted as the shower floor. Jared didn’t only lose a husband tonight. He had lost his entire family.

Jared clutched his cell phone in his hands, even as he slid under the bedsheets of the now too-large bed. While brushing his teeth he became firmly convinced that Jensen would call, if only to tell him that he and Anna were safe.

Even at his worst Jensen would never forgo his duties. Jared was only too well aware of Jensen’s sense of fairness, a trait he had teased many times as anachronistic, if also admirable.

Jared finally drifted off to sleep after three, only to be woken up when the panic alarm went off in the bedroom. He scrambled off the bed and dove for the bottom drawer of the night table where a fully loaded Browning automatic waited. He then cautiously made his way to the designated safe room to wait out the emergency.

“Sir!” Justin’s voice rang out from below, catching Jared midway down the main hallway. There was a moment before he shouted, “Range!”

The safe word meant the danger had passed. However, Jared carefully made his way to the first floor using the back stairs. He saw his personal bodyguard, Justin Hartley, standing in the foyer, the tension visible on the lean, athletic frame.

“What is it?” Jared asked cautiously.

Justin stepped aside to reveal Anna.

“Sweetie!” Jared cried out, rushing towards his child. “What…”

He never finished his sentence as he brain processed the condition his daughter was in. Mr. Pooh, Anna's most cherished toy, was hanging limply in her left hand, seemingly forgotten by its owner. Her winter sweater, handmade by his mother, was ripped in the front, with the hood precariously dangling by few loose threads. The right side of her face was bruised, already turning purple. But it was her eyes – the cornflower blue eyes were wide, unseeing. Jared suddenly feared that she and Jensen were involved in an accident while trying to return to the house.

Jared embraced her, whispering, “What happened, baby girl? Where’s Sen-Sen Daddy?”

Anna did not respond to either his presence or his question. He hugged her tighter and heard a crinkling noise. He opened her sweater to find a small envelope pinned to her turtleneck. With trembling hands he took it.

“Sir, you shouldn’t touch anything.” Justin said, unable to mask the fear in his voice.

Jared ignored the advice and opened the envelope. Out fell the simple platinum chain he bought for Jensen’s thirty-fifth birthday. The chain rolled in his hand, painting his palm with Jensen’s blood.

* * *

  
Jensen eyed the hotel clock, wondering if he should call Jared. Their violent argument had drained him and it took every bit of his will power to pack up for Anna and himself and leave home. It killed him to take their daughter away right before Christmas, but he knew the last thing she needed to witness was another shit storm of a fight between her daddies.

No, what she needed was love and security. He planned to call his family the following morning and tell them about his decision to leave Jared. He also knew his mother wouldn’t hesitate to invite them to Richardson to spend the holidays with them. Not for the first time Jensen was grateful to have such understanding parents. With a heaving sigh he peeked in the second bedroom, glad to see Anna fast asleep with Pooh firmly tucked under her chin.

Unable to stop himself Jensen gave Anna a third goodnight kiss. "I’m so sorry, baby. I’m so sorry.” Jensen whispered into the wheat-blonde head. “But we’ll be fine, I promise.”

Once again Jensen debated calling Jared but decided to turn in instead. He was going to need all his strength when he did call home. Jensen knew what to expect from his soon-to-be ex-husband: contrition, promises, before the inevitable fallout. Press Repeat.

Jensen didn’t have the patience or the time for that anymore. Not since Anna had come into their lives. In many ways Jared wasn’t a bad father, but he wasn’t a good one either. Jensen knew Jared felt overburdened by their daughter, but how could a CEO of one of the largest companies in California complain about the time it takes to properly raise a child?

Feeling tears of defeat and exhaustion sting his eyes Jensen decided to just crawl into bed. He was checking to make sure his cell phone was off when someone knocked on the door.

“Who is it?” Jensen wondered if Kevin, his personal bodyguard, successfully tracked him to the hotel.

“Hotel security, Sir. Could we speak to you for a minute? A serious incident took place in the suite next to yours.”

Jensen took a glance at the peephole and saw a police officer with a man who wore a suit similar to the concierge downstairs.

_What the fuck now?_ Jensen thought, his exasperation partly fueled by fatigue. He opened the door quietly in order not to wake Anna.

“What is it, officer?”

Jensen saw the security guard swing his hand up and ducked. The sap missed his nose but smashed his forehead. Jensen heard a muffled noise as the weapon made contact but ignored the sound and the pain as his training kicked in. He threw his entire weight against the guard, propelling both of them into the middle of the hallway. He tried to yell for help when the man posing as the police officer sprayed his face. Whatever was in the container was both odorless and tasteless, but its effect on him was immediate.

Jensen collapsed into the security guard’s arms. The men quickly entered the suite, closing the door behind him.

“Son of a bitch, he moves fast!” The guard hissed.

“Shut the fuck up,” the officer said. “We need to get the girl.”

Jensen heard the two men enter Anna’s room. With the last of his conscious will he tried to crawl towards his daughter. A small, sharp cry emanated from the room before heart-rending silence settled in. The officer returned to see Jensen struggling on the carpeted floor.

“You are one stubborn bastard.” was the last thing Jensen heard.


	2. Chapter 2

Doctor Hamilton exited Anna’s room, cautiously eyeing Jared with interest. “What happened to her?”

“Jensen and I had a fight tonight,” Jared answered as he closed Anna’s bedroom door. “She heard us and took off. It was almost an hour before we found her. Jensen thinks she might have taken a tumble near the left wall. There’s some new construction going on there, but I don’t know what it’s about.”

Hamilton gave a nod, “The cable company is installing new lines. Garcia’s little boy plays there with other kids.”

“I don’t know why Anna would go there, but Jensen nearly had a heart attack when he found her. I slipped him a pill so his ulcers wouldn’t act up again. I’m sorry, maybe he could’ve answered your questions better, but I was too worried. I wasn’t thinking straight either, with the argument and then Anna being hurt.”

“She’s asleep now. She has some minor bruising but nothing serious. I recommend she rest or as much as she can since tomorrow … well today is Christmas. Heaven knows, she’ll probably be up in three hours, demanding her presents.”

Jared willed himself to smile and nodded, “That’ll probably make Jensen very happy. The fight was so stupid, you know?”

“Holiday stress is nothing to laugh at,” Hamilton said soothingly. “I suggest you get some rest while you can.”

“I will. Thank you for coming so quickly.”

Justin let the doctor out and watched the man drive away before bolting back to Jared’s side.

“Did they say when they'll get here?” Jared asked.

“Two hours tops,” Justin answered in a low voice. “Until then we sit tight and don’t do anything stupid.”

Jared gave a hoarse laugh. “Too late for that. Too fucking late.”

“Sir, it’s almost five, why don’t you get some sleep? I’ll stand guard.”

Jared nodded and entered Anna’s bedroom. He curled his large frame around the little girl, with his back to the door. He closed his eyes, took a deep breath and caught a scent of Jensen’s aftershave. He forcefully swallowed back a sob. The last thing Anna needed was to see her father have a complete breakdown. God knows she’s seen enough of his ugly side tonight.

Jared was in the hazy fog of falling asleep when he heard the bedroom door open slowly. He turned his head to catch Justin motioning familiar hand signs. Jared rose from the bed with great speed, pulling out his gun. Justin gave a single nod and moved down the hallway to his left. Jared's stance tightened as he trained the gun on the doorway. His breaths were deep and steady, and he didn’t blink much when sweat slowly slid down his face and neck.

Justin appeared again and gave two nods. Jared didn’t lower his gun as he approached the doorway. Suddenly two figures appeared behind his bodyguard. It took every bit of control for Jared not to shoot the strangers. With sharp breaths he lowered his gun. He didn’t realize until that moment he was capable of killing a human being. He took another glance towards his daughter before walking out into the hallway on trembling legs. The two men standing in front of Jared could have been easily mistaken for delivery men or electricians or any of dozen workers whose services would be required for someone like Jared. He suspected their generic look would've been an asset to someone in their profession and wondered if they actively cultivated it.

“Sir, Ferris' firm sent these men,” Justin said.

“My name’s Jeff Morgan. This is Steve Carlson,” the older man gave a nod to the stockier partner next to him. “I would’ve introduced myself earlier but we had to make sure your house was clean.”

“Clean of what?” Jared asked.

“Listening devices, remote cameras,” Jeff answered.

“What about Anna’s room?”

“We’ll do that right now,” Steve said and noiselessly slipped into the bedroom.

“Did you find any?” Justin asked.

Jeff nodded. “Two in the master suite; one in your office; one in the kitchen and the garage.”

“Bedroom?” Jared echoed. “They bugged our bedroom?”

“It’s not unusual, given a house this size.”

“How long?” Jared asked.

“No more than two weeks. The devices had their own power sources.”

“So you can trace them, right? I mean they must have serial numbers.” Jared said, his voice reflecting his hope.

“These are homemade,” Jeff said. “Well done too.”

“Professionals then,” Justin said. “Especially if they considered power surges and used batteries to protect the bugs.”

Jeff nodded, “They left nothing to chance.”

“But even the parts must have something you can trace,” Jared said.

“Probably, but the problem is we don’t have time.” Jeff explained. “It can take days, weeks if they used cash. And the usual timeline for kidnapping is seventy-two hours, maximum.”

The door to Anna’s bedroom opened and Steve stepped out. Jared flushed with anger when he saw a small black device in the man’s grasp.

“Behind the bookshelf.” Steve explained. “It’s got minimum range.”

“But they were thorough.” Jeff said. He turned to Jared, “I’m guessing the rooms I mentioned see the most traffic?”

Jared nodded, “We use the kitchen the most. I try to keep my business in my office. Jensen doesn’t like it when I work during home hours.”

Jared didn’t see Justin’s jaw flex but Jeff did.

“Why don’t you go back to sleep?” Jeff said and placed a friendly grasp on Jared’s weary shoulders. “It’ll take couple of hours for us to process everything.”

“What if the kidnappers call?”

“Then we’ll wake you, don’t worry. You have to stay levelheaded for what’s to come. And don’t forget Anna. She needs you more than ever to be her father. Trust me on this.”

Jared nodded and trudged into Anna’s room.

Justin didn’t make eye contact with either Jeff or Steve as his boss disappeared. His voice was subdued when he said, "It’s been hard for him. Jensen … well, he’s everything to Mr. Padalecki.”

“I’m sure he is,” Jeff said. “The office said you have evidence?”

Justin blinked, “Oh God, how could I forget?”

He handed the envelope with the bloodied necklace. “It was pinned on the girl.”

Steve took it. “I’ll get it to Eric. See what he can get out of it.”

“Call me when you get there.”

Steve nodded and ran down the back stairs, moving quietly but quickly. By unspoken agreement the two men went to Justin’s private quarters. Jeff noted the large bedroom, the galley kitchen and a small but well-equipped bathroom. The bodyguard opened the fridge and took out a beer.

“Is it okay if I have one?”

“Will it interfere with your job?”

Justin shook his head, “No, I don't usually drink. I just need something to calm me down.”

“I’m guessing you’re more of a Cuervo man.”

“Something like that,” Justin answered and popped open the can. He sat down on the sofa and looked at the beer as if it knew where his boss’ husband was being held. “Jesus, I knew something like this could happen but I never thought it would.”

He took a long drink and then said, “What do you think?”

“About the kidnapping?”

“No, about the fucking marble inlay in the master bathroom. Of course I’m talking about the kidnapping!”

“There are many components to a kidnapping. The act itself, the ransom, the motivation behind it, the kidnappers themselves and lastly, but most importantly, the victims.”

“Isn’t motivation usually money?”

“Not always, and with your boss that’s where it gets complicated. He’s one of the wealthiest men in America, and he’s openly living with another man. That attracts all sorts of attention, sometimes the wrong one. I’m not saying he caused this to happen but I can’t rule it out either. Not at this juncture, anyway.”

“I’m confused about Anna. Why let her go? They could have easily ransomed for both.”

“That’s easy, children confuses the issue. The kidnappers want this to remain on a professional level. You take a kid - you’re basically declaring war on a whole mess of people. There’s also greater likelihood that the parents will involve the authorities. There’s no way a parent can think clearly when their child’s at risk. So you free the child and only the adults remain on the playing field.

“That gives me hope. It means these guys are professionals. Professionals have a reputation to uphold, and if we play our cards right, we can get Mr. Ackles back safely.”

“Either that or the kidnappers are homophobic lunatics who don’t believe in killing children.”

Jeff nodded, “Maybe. But we also have to consider the necklace.”

“That was over the top.”

“It was, but it gets the point across. The point being they have Jensen Ackles and that he’s wounded. How badly, we don’t know. They meant to do that on purpose, Justin. That show of ownership gives them power, which, in turn, will leave us feeling unbalanced and vulnerable.”

“They succeeded.”

“Like I said, pros.” Jeff waited until Justin finished drinking. “I read the file on Mr. Ackles, but I want to hear what you think. The more I know about the man, the better I can perform when the kidnappers call.”

Justin hesitated, which didn’t surprise Jeff. No one liked to reveal intimate details about the victims under such conditions.

Justin cautiously began. “He’s not interested in other people’s expectations. He’s too busy trying to meet the ones he made for himself. Some people think he’s cold but he isn’t. He’s shy, believe it or not. And that’s because a man that handsome, well, people think that if they spend enough time or money on him, they can get a piece of him. I think he got wind of that early, and is sick of it, probably is sickened by it.

“He’s loyal, fiercely loyal. I know he’s had numerous offers from other men and women while he was married but he never said yes, and he made sure they understood he wouldn’t change his mind either.”

“So there were problems with the marriage.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You just said ‘was married’, Justin. And right now my people are in the hotel room where he was staying.”

Justin’s sigh was long and deep. “Yeah, the last few months were pretty bad. They were planning to adopt for over a year so when Anna came Jensen expected Mr. Padalecki to really focus on the family. Instead, he started this huge project in Manhattan back in February and it’s taking up all his time. Jensen ended up navigating the parental waters pretty much all by himself.”

“Was that stressful for Mr. Ackles?”

Justin shook his head. “Not at all. He’s a great dad. Couldn’t ask for a better father figure. I won’t lie to you. Anna was difficult at first but she warmed up to him pretty quick. And, by May, she was his shadow.”

“But it was a different story with Mr. Padalecki.”

Justin gave a careless shrug. “He was hardly around so it didn’t really matter. I’m not saying he was cruel to Anna. She certainly liked him, but Anna treated Jensen like a father. Though how that girl knows what a parent is is anyone’s guess.”

“And their neighbors? The people in Rancho Santa Fe?”

“The people around here are like fucking vultures when it comes to gossip. They noticed when Jensen started to eat out by himself, and that Mr. Padalecki was seen less and less around town with him. But he never let it get to him. He never bowed down to it, you know. Let it grind him like I’ve seen others do.

“He fought for their marriage, until tonight.”

“What happened tonight?”

“Mr. Padalecki told Jensen he was going to be out of town next week, basically missing all the New Year parties, including the one they were planning for their friends and families. Jensen just snapped and the two really went at it. I never saw either of them so angry before. Mr. Padalecki basically told Jensen to get out.”

“Did he mean it?”

Justin shook his head vigorously. “No, I know he didn’t, but I guess Jensen took it seriously this time.”

“What happened next?”

“I followed Mr. Padalecki to the H Bar but I called home to check. Kevin, the guy assigned to Jensen, told me he took Anna and stormed out. Kevin tried to follow but lost them when they got to San Diego.”

“Did you tell Kevin what happened?”

“No, no one else knows. Mr. Padalecki said Kevin could go on vacation, as he was supposed to. Anna’s doctor came by to check up on her but Mr. Padalecki managed to convince him that she had an accident.”

“It must have been hard for you to see this happen. I get the feeling you like your boss and your job.”

“He’s a good man. A bit brash, maybe too forthcoming but he’s no monster, and I know what monsters are like. I worked for few.”

“What can you tell me about Mr. Padalecki?”

“He likes making money. He also likes to spend it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Mr. Ackles – just by looking at him you know he comes from a well-to-do family. He dresses nicely, knows what to say, knows which fork or spoon to use for which course. But he doesn’t flash his cash. I’m not saying Mr. Padalecki is a showboat, but when you look at him, you know he’s got serious money backing him up. Mr. Ackles dresses in respectable suits but nothing too fancy. You could find his clothes at a nice department store. Mr. Padalecki’s suits are all custom-made and it shows.”

“The guy’s a damn giant. His suits have to be custom-made.”

Justin broke into a smile. “Yeah, Jensen teases him about that all the time.”

“Anything else?”

“This is going to kill him, Jeff. If he doesn’t get Jensen back … I don’t know what he’ll do, and I make my living guessing my boss' actions.”

“Don’t bury the man yet. This is just getting started.”

“If you don’t mind me asking; how did you get into this business? You look more like a cop than a negotiator.”

“I was a sports major in college and did a little radio on the side. Blew out my knee senior year so I ended up doing jobs at various radio stations all along the western coast. Then the firm hired me because they liked my voice. As it turns out they gambled right. People trust me because I sound trustworthy.”

“I can understand that.”

“Probably sounds lame but it’s the truth. Look, why don’t you get some sleep? Things are just going to get more intense from here onwards and you might not be able to get any rest until this is finished.”

* * *

  
Jeff finished his cigarette before calling his partner.

“Tell me Eric found something.”

“He found a lot of something. Whether they’re useful or not is the question. How’s your end?”

“Things are very complicated here, more than we originally thought.”

“So there was trouble in paradise.”

“Definitely. From what Hartley tells me, they were sniping at each other for months before the blowout that drove Ackles to take their daughter and leave.”

“Wait a minute, you think Padalecki is somehow involved?”

“Maybe, maybe not. I’m not sure, but the timing sucks. It’s too much of a coincidence that the argument they had would force Ackles to leave without his bodyguard. And not five hours later he gets kidnapped?”

“That is ugly, but not unheard of in our business. Better than paying millions of dollars in alimony and child support payments. Not to mention the public humiliation.”

“And that’s where my theory falls apart,” Jeff said. “From what I understand Ackles was a real go-getter type. He wasn’t high maintenance either. I read the financial reports. He didn’t use much of Padalecki’s money when he had total access to it. Besides the usual gift giving, he stuck to his own bank account, which is pretty healthy.

“If they did get divorced he wouldn’t have taken Padalecki to the cleaners. Probably would have settled out of court, and most of that would be for Anna, I’d imagine.”

“So it is a coincidence?”

“No. Someone knew about their marital problems. Someone close enough to spy on them and leak the information to the kidnappers, not to mention planting the bugs in the house without getting caught. The place has a staff of eleven people, including security. Must look like a coffee shop during the day.”

“Someone in the staff then? Friends?”

“Staff, I think. The firm performs an annual sweep of Padalecki’s closest acquaintances and they are all financially stable as of October. He’s not the type to make enemies either. At least enemies who would want his husband and daughter dead.”

“But he’s a developer, Jeff. They’re bound to make enemies.”

“Yeah, I know. That’s what worries me. And here’s another ball-crusher. Justin Hartley’s in love with Ackles. He called the man by his given name but stuck to Mr. Padalecki when talking about his boss. I think it’s been going on for a while, at least over a year. He doesn’t strike me as one of those guys who falls in love at first sight.”

“Hold on, Eric’s gnawing my elbow. What?”

Jeff smiled as he heard the tech’s frantic pace of speech. Eric, bless him, was a brain but he could definitely use some polish when dealing with people.

“Let me put Kripke on,” Steve said. “I can’t understand a word he’s saying.”

“Dude!” Eric hollered. “Leave it to you to fuck up my Christmas!”

“Stop bitching or I’ll just give your present to Manners.”

“You wouldn’t dare! Okay, anyway, the envelope’s gold. Not made of gold but gold in the sense…”

“Eric, some time this year would be nice.”

“Okay, it doesn’t have any gum on the flap which made me curious. I did a little comparative work with the awesome database _I_ pulled together and get this – it’s from Northern Italy: Torino to be precise. The company that makes it pretty much supplies all the upscale firms and businesses in the area with their stationary, and you can get’em at the local shops without a problem, but here? Not a chance. It’s totally a local thing.”

“So the kidnappers have gone global?”

“Could be or it’s something they picked up while they were skiing. Who knows?”

“Eric, you’re a damn miracle worker. Put Steve back on and I am sorry I ruined your vacation.”

“Not a problem, man. Kidnapping sucks major ass. I’ll be at work so relay anything you want examined.”

“Thanks.”

Jeff heard Steve give his thanks before taking the phone. “You heard that?”

“Damn interesting. I think the kidnappers just made their first mistake.”

“Me too. Go through the local news in the area. See if there were any crimes that made the headlines. Also, go through the usual channels and see if there were any high-profile kidnappings in Italy the last four years. This grab-n-run makes me think they either had practice or they were planning it for a long time. And if they were planning it then it makes sense somebody’s got info.”

“I’ll call you as soon as I get something.”

“It’s six: the kidnappers will probably contact us around nine.”

“Gotcha, I’ll try to get something by nine. Good luck.”

Jeff pocked his cell, smoked another cigarette while checking his gun. He withdrew extra clips from a leather pouch in the glove compartment. The first thing he noticed when he reentered the house was the scent of fresh coffee. He cursed silently but managed to walk at a leisurely pace into the kitchen.

“Good morning,” He said when he saw Jared huddled around the coffeemaker.

The man whirled around, eyes wide open in fear.

“You okay?” Jeff asked, using the gentlest tone possible.

“Jesus, I thought you went out or something.”

“No, I was sneaking a smoke in my car.”

Jared poured the coffee into his mug with shaky hands, but Jeff did nothing to help. He knew the last thing the man needed was to be treated like a child. A man’s ego was a brittle thing. You hurt it, you could very well shatter the man. Women were different. Hurt their ego and they curl up to lick their wounds, but unlike their male counterparts they don’t crawl off and hide. In fact, more often than not, they get pissed, and sooner than later are looking for payback. His stint as a member of his son’s PTA taught him a great deal about the opposite sex.

“I talked to the office about the evidence you gave us.”

“I handled the necklace, sorry about that,” Jared said and took a big gulp. He quickly made a face as the coffee must have burned his mouth.

“Don’t worry about it. We have your fingerprint and DNA on record.” Jeff replied kindly. He saw a tiny, stilted smile on Jared’s face and asked, “What’s so funny?”

“I remember when your firm asked Jensen for his fingerprints and DNA sample. He was so angry, I thought he’d call off the wedding.”

“I heard about that,” Jeff said. “It took four visits before he agreed, right?”

Jared nodded, “Jensen couldn’t understand why you guys would need such things.”

Jeff placed a comforting hand on the man’s shoulder as Jared put down his mug and cradled his head. He patiently waited until Jared was able to compose himself. “So the necklace was a present from you.”

“Yes, it was. I planned to get him a new car but he didn’t want one. He bought one parking space along with his condo. I told him he could sell his jeep but Jensen wouldn’t hear of it.

“He said it would be a bad form for a fundraiser to drive around town in a brand new BMW. He didn’t want to give the wrong impression. It was like that even after we got married. He never asked me for any money, even for his work. I asked him why and he said it’s like selling all your Girl Scout cookies to your mom. I told him my mom always buys at least ten boxes from Megan. He laughed but we never talked about it again.”

“I want you to tell me if anything was off. Not between you and Jensen but with the staff or somebody from town. Any strangers show up in the last month? Somebody from the cable company maybe?”

Jared shook his head. “I don’t keep track of such things. Jensen does and he didn’t mention anything like that.”

“Anything with the staff then?”

“No, they’re great, as usual. When Jensen gave them the Christmas week off with pay they were very happy.”

“Is that usual practice?”

Jared nodded, “Yeah, some years it’s a few days, but he was feeling generous I guess. We talked about it and I didn’t see any problem with it. The house is big but Jensen and I are pretty self-sufficient. And I think he wanted us to spend some quality time before I left.”

“The New York project?”

Jared nodded tersely, his posture suddenly tightening.

“Jared, did you have any problems with the construction there? Any … people making demands or threats even?”

“You mean organized crime?”

“Something like that, yes.”

“Honestly, no. I was expecting something out of _Law and Order_ but it turned out pretty well. You have to understand, my father built the company in such a way that we don't have to depend on third party suppliers. We do everything, including manufacturing the material needed to build. Sure, some of the stuff have to be outsourced but my father made sure we had dependable contractors and supply lines.”

“That must have pissed somebody off.”

“You’d think, but from what I understand there’s a huge crackdown happening in New York right now, so the mob families are staying off the radar. I’ve had some tense meeting with the unions but nothing to make me think they were going to do anything extreme. And those guys, once they’re on your side, things go pretty smoothly.”

“How is the construction going?”

“We’re three weeks ahead of schedule. And as far as I know we’re not having any problems meeting the codes. We’re building a world-class structure there, Jeff. Something that would make the New Yorkers proud, especially after 9/11. And everyone who’s working there knows it. They’re not about to jeopardize something like the Ross Tower because they didn’t get the medical coverage they wanted.”

“Ross? Isn’t that…”

Jared flushed a dull red. “Yeah, it’s Jensen’s middle name. I didn’t tell him about it because I wanted it to be a surprise. He inspired me to build it, you know. It was a conversation we had after 9/11. Something he said struck me. You know about his jobs as a refugee counselor?”

Jeff nodded. “His dossier has his CV. It was a tough read.”

“I was paralyzed that day. Couldn’t think straight after the second Tower went down. Jensen came to the office, sent everyone home and took care of me. He got me through it, you know.”

“What did he say?”

Jared shook his head slowly. “Sorry, but that's something just between us.”

“Not a problem. So, the building’s going to be something?”

“It’s going to be beautiful. Especially during sunset and sunrise. My favorite description is ‘shimmering like gold on a riverbed.’”

Jeff smiled and shook his head. “Too much for a simple man like myself.”

“Tell me, how many of these have you dealt with?”

“Six, can’t tell you who. I’ve had five successes, one failure.” Jeff answered, not at all surprised by the sudden turn in the conversation. If anything, he expected Padalecki to question his expertise hours ago.

“What about the FBI? When are we contacting them?”

“The FBI’s stance is not to give into the kidnappers’ demands. In my experience that’s not always the best scenario.”

“That’s what I thought,” Jared said. He took another sip of the coffee before giving a hard look at the negotiator. “And if these guys are as good as you think they are, then they’re even more dangerous because the moment they figure out the Feds are involved, they’ll kill Jensen and move on.”

“Yeah, that’s what I think.”

“Why did they release Anna?”

“They wanted to give us a message. That they have the power to choose between life and death.”

“Bunch of fuckheads is what I’m hearing.”

Jeff’s smile grew. “And that’s what you need. Don’t think about anything else except getting Jensen back. Don’t think about talking to those fuckheads because that’s my job. Don’t think about what they did or are doing. Just focus on Jensen.”

“The carrot in front of the donkey, eh?”

“You got it.”

The men grew silent as they heard noise in the corridor outside the kitchen. Justin entered the room, bleary-eyed and unshaven.

“I see we all got our beauty sleep,” Jeff cracked.

“Don’t make fun of the man with a gun, especially before he had his first cup of coffee.” Justin drawled.

“Now that you’re both here, you can answer some questions,” Jeff said as Justin made himself comfortable next to Jared. “Anyone new in the staff?”

“Mrs. Cruz, she works under Mr. Yoshida, got sick so her daughter, Jamie, took over.” Jared said.

“Did Jamie ever go upstairs or your office?”

“No, Mrs. Cruz’s job was helping Mr. Yoshida. Her daughter did the same thing,” Justin answered.

“Are you sure?”

Jared looked at his bodyguard and shook his head. “No, that's not right. Couple of weeks ago, Jensen asked her to help him decorate the house for Christmas. They spent an entire morning doing up the place. He told me she had an eye for it. I think the daughter was a florist before she took over for Mrs. Cruz.”

“Anyone else? Some temp services because of the holidays?”

Both Justin and Jared shook their heads.

“You sure?”

Jared nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure. Jensen would’ve cleared with me first.”

Justin’s eyes slid to his boss but he remained stoically quiet. Jeff wanted to question the bodyguard but did not want to press the issue. He knew the man must be feeling conflicted with the information he had already revealed.

“Okay then, we need to check on this Jamie Cruz gal. Anyone got her address?”

“I have it on my computer,” Jared said.

“Best not to touch that right now. Do you have it on paper?”

“Um … Jensen made a printout of our Christmas card list and I think he included the staff. Let me see if the printout’s still around.”

Jeff waited until Jared was out of earshot before looking at Justin. “You have anything to tell me about the staff? Something you don’t want your boss to hear?”

“Jamie’s got a bit of a crush on me. She’s nice and all, but I’m not interested. I thought you should know.”

“Okay, tell me about her.”

“Nice girl, too preoccupied for my tastes but Jared’s right – she’s definitely inherited her mother’s gift for gardening. Jensen was more than happy with her taking over her mother’s position.”

“Do you know what happened to Mrs. Cruz?”

“No, just that she needed some personal time off. Her being sick is news to me.”

Jared entered the kitchen, reading a sheaf of paper in his hands. “It’s here. And knowing Jensen he probably double-checked to make sure we had the right addresses.”

Jeff took the list and made a call on his cell. “Steve? It’s me. I need some field work.”

“I can’t afford to leave now but Chris is back in town. I just got a call from him.”

Jeff closed his eyes and sighed. “The son of a bitch didn’t have the good grace to die in Mexico?”

“Nope,” Steve said, his voice filled with glee. “The son of a bitch is back in town and looking for some action.”

“Fuck it. I need an address checked out. It’s someone on the staff.”

“Okay, give it.”

“3114 Hollywell Avenue, apartment 3B. Name’s Jamie Cruz. Her mother’s on permanent staff but she needed some time off so Jamie took over.”

“Got it. Don’t worry about Chris. I can handle him.”

“You and Lucifer. Tell the bastard to call me as soon as he gets there. And for the love of God, tell him to be careful.”

“I will, but the big question is will the asswipe listen to me.”

Jeff finished the call and waited for the inevitable question.

“Who’s Chris?” Jared demanded.

“A colleague and a pain in the ass. Considered a god amongst his brethren when it comes to armaments. He’s been a field op for ten years and is probably the best one we’ve got on payroll. We’ve been trying to bring him into the office for nearly a year now but the bastard’s damn slippery. Considers suits to be one rung above chicken hawks.”

“What happened in Mexico?”

“Someone tried to kidnap a wife of a visiting diplomat. Chris was her bodyguard. He managed to get her out of trouble but ended up banging the broad. Needless to say our client wasn’t too happy with him. He had to sneak his way back into the U.S. because the husband put out a hit on the idiot.”

“He and Steve are friends?” Jared asked.

“Yeah, the two are inseparable. Steve’s the Zen stone in the relationship. You’d think Chris would’ve put a bullet in Steve’s head when they first met: instead they became best friends.”

“Military?”

“Yep, they served together. When Steve was discharged because of an injury, Chris just followed.”

“He sounds more like a dangerous stray than a friend.” Justin commented wryly.

Jeff nodded, “That’s not a bad assessment. But he’s damn good at what he does. Otherwise we wouldn’t have bailed him out of Mexico.”

Suddenly a noise emanated from Jeff’s jacket pocket. He quickly pulled out a small device and said, “Anna’s awake.”

“You bugged her room?” Jared asked incredulously.

“Why are you surprised? You don’t think I’d let you people wander around this place without knowing what you’re doing, did you?”

Justin busied himself with his coffee while Jared just gaped at Jeff.

“Mr. Padalecki, your daughter?” Jeff said, waving the handset.

“Son of a bitch!” Jared snarled before turning his heel and running out of the kitchen.

“That was impressive,” Justin said, his eyes crinkling into a smile.

“I aim to please. C’mon, I need to talk with Anna.”

“I don’t think she’ll be up for anything.” was Justin’s firm reply.

“Easy now. I’m not going to interrogate her. I just want to see if she’s capable of remembering what happened at the hotel.” Jeff replied. He knew the last thing he wanted was to antagonize Hartley. He needed an outsider’s point of view on the relationship between Padalecki and Ackles, and Hartley fulfilled that need quite nicely.

* * *

  
The two men entered the bedroom to witness Jared helping Anna put on her sweater. Jeff wondered if Jared was helping his daughter because she need it or because he needed to do something for his child.

“Hello, Anna,” Jeff said as he crouched down in front of her. “I’m a friend of Jensen. Jared told me there was some trouble so here I am.”

“You’re a friend?” Anna asked suspiciously.

“That I am. Jensen and I met few years ago during a weekend seminar. Something we have to do for our jobs.” Jeff said and pulled out his wallet. “Here’s a picture of us together.”

Anna stared at the photograph of the two men. “What did you do?”

“A little of this, a little of that,” Jeff answered easily. “Your dad’s a real good horseman, but … well, he kinda sucked at shooting. He loved swimming though. I hated it: can’t stand the smell of chlorine.”

“He’s a good swimmer. Pada Papa says so.”

“I agree. Look sweetie, you must be tired. If you want to talk to me about what happened to your daddy later, you can. Okay?”

Jared waited with trepidation as Jeff stood up to leave.

“There were two,” Anna said in a small voice. “And one of them was a policeman.”

Jeff crouched down again. “Really? How do you know?”

“Ms. Markham showed me a picture of a police officer in school. He even had the big belt and a gun.”

“I see. No wonder your daddy let him in. And the other?”

“Smelled funny.” Anna answered. “And his neck had a picture.”

“You mean a tattoo?”

“What’s a tattoo?”

“It’s like a drawing but people wear it on their skin instead of painting it on paper. That sounds weird, doesn’t it?”

Anna nodded, “I saw those before I had daddies.”

“That still sounds weird to me,” Jeff said, wrinkling his nose. “Anna, do you think you can draw this painting? Doesn’t have to be good, just something you remember.”

Anna chewed on her lips before nodding. “Pada Papa says I’m good at drawing.”

“I can see that,” Jeff said pointing at various artworks displayed throughout the room. “And let me tell you I am very jealous. I can’t draw to save my dog but do you know what I can do?”

“What?”

“I can make amazing waffles. Do you want to come downstairs with me? I can make breakfast for all of us and you can draw the weird tattoo thingy.”

Anna tucked Pooh under her right arm and gathered her drawing material from her desk. Jeff waited patiently as she prodded the dogs off her bed. With her entourage gathered around her, the small girl cautiously made her way to the kitchen.

Jared waited until Anna was out of earshot before asking, “Is that picture real?”

“No, I had it made before we arrived. I thought it might be a good way to break the ice with your daughter.” Jeff answered.

Jared’s face crumpled for a moment but said nothing. However, his expression brightened during breakfast as he watched Anna go through the simple rituals of eating and introducing Pooh to Jeff. Then the air became tense as Anna began drawing the tattoo.

Jeff fully expected a crude rendition; Anna’s drawing was anything but. The line, the swirls and foreign symbols were carefully recreated. When Anna finished she handed the paper to Jeff.

“This is remarkable,” Jeff said with awe in his voice.

“I drew a lot when I was young.”

The answer would’ve evoked laughter but Jeff saw the painful truth in her reply. She wasn’t young anymore. No, her childhood was sacrificed long before Ackles found and rescued her.

“The man who had that,” Anna said, pointing at the drawing, “he told me to stop crying in Romanian.”

“In Romanian?” Jeff was honestly surprised.

“Yes,” Anna replied with a frown before shaking her head. “But he’s not Romanian.”

“Why do you say that?”

“He spoke it wrong. Like when Mr. Yoshida calls me Anne-A. It’s not Anne-A. It’s A-nna.”

“But the language is very hard. Maybe he had a bad teacher.”

Anna thought carefully before shaking her head again. “No, I think he learned some words. Maybe sentences like I did when I came here.”

“Where is the bathroom and things like that?” Jeff asked.

Anna nodded. “I was surprised to hear him speak it.”

“I don’t doubt you. Thank you A-nna for this lovely drawing.”

“What are you going to do with it?”

“Sometimes people get tattoos because something important happened to them. In a way it’s like writing a secret in a diary, but instead it’s written on their skin. Maybe I can read this tattoo and figure something out about the men who took your daddy.”

Anna looked at Jared. “I tried my best, Papa. I tried so very hard to help Daddy but they wouldn’t let me.”

Jared hugged her. “I know baby. I’m so grateful you did. Sen-Sen Daddy would’ve been very proud of you.”

Jeff’s cell rang. He checked the caller I.D. and excused himself. He took a deep breath and answered, “Chris?”

“You sound ecstatic to hear from me.”

“Cut the bullshit. Where are you?”

“At Cruz’s apartment, and it’s bad. She hung herself. Left behind a suicide note too.”

“I thought something like that might happen. Fuck.”

“You want me to look for anything?”

“Does she have a laptop?”

“Yep, want me to link it to the lab so Eric can download?”

“Do it quickly and get out. Be careful.”

“That goes without saying. Do you want me to come by afterwards?”

“Yeah, I’m expecting a call by ten at the latest.”

“I’ll be there in an hour. Jeff, this shit stinks.”

“I won’t argue with that.” Jeff paused before asking. “Does it look like suicide?”

“I found enough meds in her cabinet to kill off an entire platoon so I’m gonna say no. Hanging isn’t totally unheard of but women like to use poison if given a choice.”

“Got it, thanks.”

Jeff exited the laundry room only to face Justin standing outside the door.

“She’s dead?” he whispered hoarsely.

Jeff nodded, “Looks like. And Chris doesn’t think it’s suicide.”

“Jesus, they killed her?”

“They’re mopping up after themselves is what they’re doing. I think you should call the rest of the staff to wish them happy Christmas or something, just to make sure nobody else’s been eliminated. And if you speak to Mrs. Cruz, tell her you couldn’t reach Jamie. That might make the mom look in on her daughter.”

“Not a problem. I’ll use my personal line.”

Jeff nodded his thanks and rejoined the Padalecki family in the kitchen. Jared noticed his pallor but didn’t ask any questions. Instead, he kept Anna busy with nonsense talk. An hour had nearly passed before Jeff spotted a compact figure with startlingly blond hair strolling through the back garden.

“He’s a friend,” Jeff said as he let Chris inside.

“Hiya,” Chris said with a smile that reached his eyes when he spotted Anna and Jared.

Jared gave a small nod but Anna actually smiled in response.

“You must be Anna. I’ve heard a lot about you.” Chris said as he stuck his hand out.

Anna blinked in surprise but gave a small handshake.

“So, is there some waffles left for me? I’m famished.” Chris said, looking around the kitchen.

“How’d you know we had waffles?” Jared asked.

“I can see from the mess that Jeff cooked, and the only decent thing he can make is waffles. Otherwise, the man could burn the house down if you leave him alone in the kitchen.”

Anna didn’t giggle but her eyes narrowed in silent laughter. Once again Jeff was reminded how much self-control the little girl already possessed. Five-years-old and she had enough manners to shame some of his adult acquaintances.

“So, where do you want me to set up?” Chris asked breezily as he scarfed down the cold leftovers.

“In Mr. Padalecki’s office,” Jeff said and lobbed his car keys at Chris.

“Give me twenty,” was the reply.

Both Jared and Jeff directed their attention on Anna until Justin returned to the kitchen alongside Chris.

“I called everyone to wish them a merry Christmas,” Justin said. “They want to say thank you again, Mr. Padalecki, for giving them the time off.”

Jared gave a small nod and a puzzled glance at Jeff.

“Justin, why don’t you take Anna upstairs and help her open some of her presents.” Jeff said, giving a glance at his watch. It was 8:47AM.

“Of course.” Justin answered.

Anna gave the men a searching glance before taking Justin’s hand. She turned to Jared and said, “Please Papa, make the bad men give Daddy back.”

“I will. I promise,” Jared said, his voice wavering badly.

The two men entered the office and watched as Chris finished hooking up the office telephone to a small laptop. Jared took a deep breath when he saw the various computers and technical material spread out all over his desk. He locked the office door and collapsed on the large sofa facing an impressive fireplace.

“I can’t do this,” he whispered. “Fuck, Anna is holding it together better than me.”

“I’m sorry to tell you but you got no choice,” Jeff said.

Jared gave a small nod. “I knew you were going to say that.”

“Just think about Jensen. That’s all you need to do.”

“Okay.” Jared whispered. Then he looked at Jeff with a teary squint. “You know Jensen’s going to blow a gasket when he finds out we categorized him as a carrot. The man’s an overachiever: he probably would’ve preferred broccoli.”

Jeff gave a bark of laughter. “I’ll be long gone by then so you’re going to have to deal with that all by yourself.”

Before Jared could reply his office phone rang.

Jeff let it ring twice before answering. “Padalecki’s residence. May I help you?”

“We sent an e-mail.”

“Thank you.”

The line went dead. Jared stared at the phone then transferred his stunned gaze towards Jeff.

“That’s it?”

“Check your e-mail.”

Jared scrambled to his computer desk and turned on the Mac. His fingers froze on the keyboard when he logged onto his e-mail account. Jeff saw the list of new messages but only one interested him. He entered commands on the laptops hooked onto Jared’s computer before opening the e-mail. It contained an URL address. He clicked on it and waited while the web page loaded.

“It’s looks like a live feed,” Jeff said.

The screen opened and revealed a small room with a T.V. at the upper left corner. Suddenly a man sat in front of the television with what looked like a paper cup and a plate filled with food.

“Jensen, oh thank God, that’s Jensen.” Jared whispered as he watched his husband eat.

“What program is that?” Chris asked as he tried to figure out the show on television.

“Looks like … it’s Disney’s Christmas Parade,” Jared answered.

Jeff turned on the television sitting neglected in the corner and switched channels until he came upon the parade. He compared the two programs. They were the same.

“We have proof of life,” Jeff said as he rested a firm hand on Jared’s trembling shoulders. But he refrained from saying anything else as the man wept openly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Day Two, Part Two**

Ian Jackson waited patiently as his boss debriefed Vladovic. As expected his superior wasn’t at all pleased with how things turned out.

“Bloody necklace?” Harlan said curtly. “I gave orders for a clean delivery.”

Jackson raised a placating hand. “Couldn’t be helped. Ackles was trained like you said, and his response time was good. He almost got away. Thought it’d be better to deliver the message with some blood than risk cleaning it up and leaving something behind.”

Harlan maintained his gaze at Vladovic the entire time Jackson spoke. After a moment he asked, “What about the girl?”

“They got her. I saw to that.” Jackson answered. “So, nine then?”

“As planned," Harlan answered. "Peter, make sure Will's got the computer ready. We can't afford any more fuck-ups."

Vladovic nodded hastily and left. Jackson opened a window and lit up a cigarette. He went through two before deciding it was safe to speak to his boss.

“You know Ackles, don’t you?”

Harlan didn’t even look surprised. “His extraction was my final mission. Goddamn son of a bitch nearly cost me my entire team.”

“So this is payback?” Jackson was stunned by the answer. Harlan was not the type to hold grudges.

“No, I actually like the man. He was half out of his mind with fever but it took two medics and myself to subdue him and get him on the boat. Got to admire that kind of loyalty.”

"Why him then?”

“Because he’s got one rich husband, or fuck buddy, or whatever you call it nowadays. And he’s smart. He won’t do anything stupid, not if it meant risking his daughter’s safety.”

“But is he the type to do something stupid if it’s just him?”

“Probably. Which is why we can’t lose control, not even a little bit.”

“That’s not going to be easy to do for forty-eight hours.”

“Probably not, but the money’s a guarantee, Jackson. If I was a faggot and rich like Padalecki, I’d pay anything to get Ackles back.”

“But fifteen million?”

“The man’s private net worth is four hundred million. And that’s last year’s estimate. If he can't then that fancy private insurance firm covering his ass will. Either way, we get what we need. Don’t worry about that.”

* * *

  
Vladovic gently placed the unconscious man on the pile of blankets. He remembered Harlan's orders not to harm or damage Ackles. He's screwed up once already. Vladovic knew there would be no second chances: a man like Harlan would make sure of that.

“I’m glad we didn’t take the girl,” Masterson said as he shoved the styrofoam cooler against the wall with his foot. “It’s bad juju to hurt children.”

“Yeah, I know what you mean.” Vladovic gave a nod at the cooler. “Did you make sure?”

Masterson nodded. “It has enough food and water for two days, five if Ackles decides to go on a diet.”

“Then we’re set. Let’s get out of here.” Vladovic didn’t like the room. It reminded him too much of Russian prisons.

The two men left, not realizing their victim was awake and listening. Jensen waited for what seemed like an inordinate amount of time before moving. He sat up cautiously, fully expecting his head to spin. To his relief, it didn’t happen. Whatever was in the spray can it had to have been top quality because he didn’t have a headache or a dry mouth either. With studious care he stood up and examined the room.

There was no bed, just three blankets. Obviously the kidnappers knew that weapons could be fashioned out of bed coils. A sensor toilet was at the other end of the room with a single roll of toilet paper. Its seat was missing.

With some trepidation Jensen examined the door and realized it was the type used in restaurants for walk-in fridges. With a shudder he realized that was exactly where he was locked up in – a refrigerated room, maybe even a butcher’s. There was no easy escape from here, not unless one of his captors made a critical mistake.

Jensen realized he was slipping into hysteria and forced himself to calm down. Anna was safe. That gave him great comfort. He also knew he had enough food for five days, and that meant there was plenty of time for Jared to do whatever necessary to find him. Hell, with the way he was feeling he could probably stretch the supplies to seven or even ten.

Jensen spotted a book on top of the television. He gasped in shock. It was a tattered copy of Rand’s _The Fountainhead_.

 _How the hell do they know?_ Jensen thought, staring at the book with wide eyes. Did he mention Rand’s masterpiece in one of his interviews?

Jensen cautiously took the book and opened it. The pages were practically falling out of the book but it was still readable. He knew he was being watched and guessed his captors wanted him preoccupied. He was more than willing to let them think that. But when the time came he was going to do whatever necessary to escape.

Jensen knew Jared would pay the ransom. Considering how guilty Jared must feeling, he knew his husband would pay without hesitation. But Jensen also knew that a paid ransom wouldn't guarantee his freedom. They might just leave him locked in here to slowly starve to death, or even worse, suffocate if they turned off the ventilation system.

He had long ago learned not to trust kindness of strangers. It was a bloody and painful lesson, one that would remain with him until the day he died.

Jensen had another reason for escaping. He had woken up when the men were depositing him into his room and heard someone call out the name ‘Harlan’. It took him a while to remember why the name sounded familiar. But when his memory finally did come back, it did so with vengeance.

He remembered the soldier from the Angola nightmare. Hard to forget a man who looked like the human personification of Ares. Tall, strong, angular face topped with short, curly black hair, he possessed a stance that a bull couldn’t shake. Jensen also remembered the vicious right hook the man gave him when he began struggling. Half delirious with fever and malnutrition, Jensen thought the hospice was going to burn down unless he was actually in the building.

By the time he woke up he was in a navy ship the size of New Jersey. Harlan visited him in sick bay the second day and they had an awkward if honest conversation. Jensen fully understood the lieutenant’s actions and told him he had no desire to press any charges. Harlan, in turn, listened to Jensen’s heartfelt speech about why he had placed himself in such precarious position in Angola. Jensen didn’t suffer from a martyr’s complex. The truth was there was so much shit to do in the refugee camps and he was one of the few who qualified for the work. And as the years passed, he actually fell in love with his job and the people he worked for. Not many people could honestly make that claim and Jensen knew it, which was the main reason for his violent behavior with Harlan and his men.

They accepted each other’s apology and went their separate ways. Or so Jensen thought. He wanted to believe the Spartan lieutenant was in no way involved in this mess, but he wasn’t going to gamble his life and his family’s welfare on such useless hopes. He spent nearly fourteen years in Africa, working at various refugee camps and medical centers. And during that time he had faced warlords, slave traders, psychotic killers, spree killers, mass murderers, child rapists and other sick fucks who would have gladly cut his throat for ten dollars or less. So, if the kidnappers thought they were dealing with some lily-bellied dumbfuck then that would be their miscalculation: one that he was hell-bent on fully exploiting.

So, he quietly read Rand’s book until the television suddenly came on. He winced at the program and wondered why the hell he was being forced to watch Disney’s Christmas Parade. Then he realized it was probably because they needed to prove he was alive. Jensen decided to make a small meal in the hopes that if Jared were watching he would see that Jensen was alive and well.

 _Whatever happens, take care of Anna. She’s the best part of me, Jared. Remember that,_ Jensen thought as he forced himself to eat.

* * *

  
Jared knew he was being twitchy but couldn’t stop himself even if he tried. The brief glimpse of Jensen had wrung all his self-control and the collapse that happened in the aftermath had drained him. Jeff stood by calmly, letting him cry until there were no tears left.

“I can’t face Anna right now,” Jared said hoarsely.

“I’ll talk with Justin,” Chris said and left the room.

Jared wiped his face with his hands and looked at Jeff. “Now what happens?”

“They know we saw the broadcast. It’s their move now," Jeff answered. "And he looks good. If Jensen was injured it couldn't have been too serious."

Jared nodded in agreement, his face still buried in his hands.

Jeff’s cell rang and he answered it quickly. “Morgan.”

“Hey there, buddy,” Kripke said. “I just got through shuffling the call and the web broadcast.”

“Anything?”

“Nada, the bastards piggy-backed through several servers. Damn fuckers know what they’re doing, that’s for sure.”

“Where did the signal falsely originate from?”

“I tracked it to Hungary. Why are you asking?”

“Even if it’s false, there may be a reason why the kidnappers chose the location. Any chance you could get more?”

“I’m working on it right now. Thought you might want an update.”

“Thanks.”

Jared looked at him with bleak eyes. “They can’t trace anything, can they?”

“Not yet, but Kripke is a fucking genius so I wouldn’t throw in the towel yet.”

Chris rejoined them with Steve looking flushed and excited.

“So you got something?” Jeff said.

“You’re going to love this,” Steve answered and dumped several folders on Jared’s desk. Jeff took the thickest one and began reading.

“What the hell,” he whispered after he finished.

“No kidding,” Steve said. “All the other heists are just the same. Has to be the same gang.”

“Care to fill in the rest of the class?” Chris drawled.

Steve looked at his friend then at Jared who watched them owlishly. “Around March, a gang of professional thieves began hitting banks, emptying out safety deposit boxes. Get this, their last heist was in Torino, Italy.”

“Their last heist?” Jared echoed.

“Their luck ran out. They were coming out of a bank when they met up with a squad of police cars returning from a protest. The getaway driver, one Sophia Mazzanti, got caught. Because the robberies were so high profile she got the royal treatment. It took less than a day for her to crack.

“She told the interrogators that the men needed approximately twenty million dollars to make a drug transaction. They managed to steal 8.2 million dollars before Torino.”

“So they got less than half the money they needed,” Jeff said. “That’s real bad for them. Did she say anything else?”

“Just that the mastermind’s an ex-military guy and plenty scary. She never met the man but her boyfriend works for the group and he was convinced the guy was a high-ranking officer. It’s only a guess since we have no corroboration.”

“How can we get access to Mazzanti?” Chris asked.

“We can’t. She was being transferred to a more secure location when her car exploded. The body count included her, the two detectives with her, the driver, and two pedestrians who were unfortunate enough to be caught in the blast.”

“Jesus,” Jared said, his face turning ashen. “They killed five people just to get her?”

Jeff heard the panic in Jared’s voice and said, “Professionals, Mr. Padalecki, which is a good thing for us. Remember that.”

“The SS were considered professionals!” Jared stormed at Jeff. “But something tells me you wouldn’t be so happy to negotiate with the fuckers!”

“Of course not. I can’t speak German,” Jeff quipped.

Jared gaped at the man before slumping into a chair, laughing thinly. “You are a strange man, Jeff Morgan.”

“Oh, I could’ve told you that,” Steve said with a crooked smile.

“Sorry for yelling,” Jared said.

“Not a problem. I was expecting it for a while now,” Jeff answered kindly. He saw a photograph on the mantelpiece and picked it up. He needed to distract Padalecki right now. Otherwise, the man would shatter permanently and become useless. “Nice, is this an anniversary picture?”

Jared saw the photo and shook his head. “No, actually, that was taken the first day we met.”

“Really?” Chris said, taking the picture from Jeff. “You guys look like old friends.”

“It was my thirtieth birthday and my momma threw the biggest party in the history of San Antonio. Jensen was invited so he brought a date who wasn't me.”

“Something tells me the guy went home disappointed,” Jeff said.

“No, not really. The date was Tom Welling.”

“Tom … he’s a friend of the family, isn’t he?” Jeff asked.

Jared nodded, “And he’s straight. Jensen roped him into coming with him because he was afraid of being mugged by all the Texas mothers who’ll be attending with their single daughters.”

“He wasn’t out then?” Chris asked.

“He was. But you have to understand, homosexuality is an obstacle course as far as Texas mothers are concerned. If Jensen had shown up by himself he would’ve been cornered in five minutes flat. With Tom in tow, he was guaranteed some breathing space.”

“No kidding, the guy’s almost big as you,” Jeff said, remembering the pictures he’d seen of Welling.

“He’s a good man, through and through. Didn’t tell anyone he was just there for show. Didn’t care if people thought he was gay either. Jensen was his friend and his friend needed help, and that was enough for Tom.”

“No wonder he’s still your friend,” Steve said.

“What happens now?” Jared asked.

“Now we wait for the ransom demand,” Jeff answered.

“If it’s just about money…” Jared said slowly.

“We play it by ear, but if we think Jensen will be released, then we pay it.”

“What about the FBI?” Jared asked and noticed Steve and Chris trading looks.

“That’s your call, Mr. Padalecki,” Jeff said. “I cannot tell you what to do about bringing in the authorities.”

“Like we discussed before: If they are pros, and they find out about the Feds they’ll cut their losses and run. Mazzanti's murder is a proof of that.”

“If it’s the same gang, yes, that’s would be my conclusion.” Jeff answered.

“Then no FBI. Not yet,” Jared said breathlessly.

Jeff didn’t say anything but the tension in the room immediately dialed down several notches.

* * *

  
**July 19, 2000**

“God loves me,” Megan said with a blissful smile.

Jared stopped eating the lobster cocktail and turned to his sister. Megan wasn’t a big mystery like the rest of her gender, but there were moments when her outbursts worried him.

“And this revelation came on my birthday how?” Jared grinned as Megan rolled her eyes.

"The guy that just entered the room, dumbass.”

Jared saw the stranger and had to admit, yeah, God loved somebody when he made that tall drink of water. Black hair, striking blue eyes, and a body that Jared would envy, and he worked out religiously five times a week.

“Well, here’s your chance to make momma’s dream come true,” Jared said, nudging his sister.

“It is, isn’t it?” Megan brightened considerably. “Can you imagine me meeting my future husband at your stupid birthday party?”

“Hey now, don’t be talking smack about the party where your dream hunk made his appear…”

“God hates me,” Megan interrupted with another dramatic sigh.

This time Jared knew to look at the doorway. He spotted another man joining Megan’s future fiancé and had to agree. God hated not only Megan but him also, ‘cause the tall drink of water’s date was a man whose beauty could stop satellites from spinning their orbits.

“Jesus, are those lips real?” Megan said after a thorough perusal. “And how is it fair that his eyelashes are thicker than mine? And I’m wearing mascara!”

“Maybe he’s wearing mascara,” Jared said lamely.

“Nuh-uh, those are totally natural. Ooohhh, there goes mom! And look at her go!”

Jared chuckled at Megan’s observation as he watched Professor Sharon Padalecki cut off the other mothers before they swarmed around the two men and do ungodly things to them. Like trying to convince them heterosexuality was worth a shot, for God and Country if nothing else.

The Satellite Killer seemed genuinely glad to see his mom and gave her proper kiss on the cheek. The two chatted for few minutes before she spotted her two children. With determined look she ushered the guests towards Jared and Megan.

“Ah shit, this is going to be so depressing.” Megan hissed and dusted off imaginary crumbs from her dress.

Jared did the same with his suit but in his case, the crumbs weren’t so imaginary.

“These are my two youngest, Jared and Megan. This is Jensen Ackles and his date, Tom Welling,” Sharon said with caged eagerness.

Megan looked at the shorter man, “You’re Jensen Ackles?”

“Yes, I am,” Jensen replied with a puzzled smile. “Why is that a surprise?”

“No, it’s just that with all your work, I expected someone … older.” Megan finished lamely.

Jared rolled his eyes, “She means someone much less attractive.”

Megan gave him an evil eye but kept her mouth shut.

“Their conversational skills need a little polishing,” Sharon said dryly. “It’s the food. They eat more than they should and all the blood rushes from their heads to their stomachs. It’s in the Padalecki genes I’m afraid.”

Jensen managed to control his laughter but his date was not so successful. Tom turned to Jensen and said, “I’ll get us something to drink. Excuse me.”

“Why don’t I join you?” Megan said with a winning smile.

Before Tom could accept or refuse she linked her arm with his and practically dragged him to the bar. With selfish glee Jared studied Jensen while his date being stolen right in front of him.

"What do you think of the party?" Sharon asked.

"It's definitely going down in San Antonio's history as the party to beat. I heard the catering company was flown in from Las Vegas?"

“I have to make sure my guests are well fed and in no condition to drive,” Sharon said with a cheerful smile. “That way I’m guaranteed to raise the money necessary for the new hospital.”

“You have an open bar?” Jensen asked with admiration in his eyes.

“Of course, how else could you squeeze money from some of these tightwads? By the way, do you mind?" Sharon suddenly produced a camera and smiled charmingly. Jared didn't hesitate: he threw his arm around Jensen's shoulder and pulled him close. Sharon snapped a picture and said, "Jared, entertain our guest and please behave. The last one’s still thinking about filing a civil suit against you.”

Jared looked at his mother with love and exasperation as Sharon glided away.

“She’s awesome,” Jensen said. “You're so damn lucky.”

“I am,” Jared admitted with a sheepish grin. “She gets a bit much but it’s all for a good cause.”

“I noticed that you’re having a fundraiser for your birthday?” Jensen asked. “Was that her idea or yours?”

“Hers, but I knew the party would guarantee the tightwads’ appearances so I gave her my blessing.”

“Big three-o, congratulations.”

“Not so hard considering my lifestyle,” Jared said in a cynical tone.

“But I’m told you reached your thirty minus the usual visits to detox centers, a flashy marriage, even flashier divorce and few brushes with the law that sons of billionaires seem destined to go through.”

Jared threw back his head and laughed. It was loud and long, garnishing curious looks from other guests.

“Are you always so honest?” Jared asked.

“Saves me a lot of grief down the line. Keeping track of lies is next to impossible for me. My work demands all my attention, and my friends can smell bullshit from a mile away.”

“I heard about your job in Angola. Sounds damn dangerous.”

“But fulfilling,” Jensen said in a firm voice. “And as soon as I’m healthy enough I’m going back.”

“You can’t be serious,” Jared said, not bothering to hide his shock. “It’s not a war zone anymore. It’s a graveyard over there.”

“And yet we see videos of the living every day on CNN,” Jensen quipped. “They’re my friends, Jared. And some of them I knew since I graduated from college. I don’t abandon people I care about. I’m going back.”

Jared stared at Jensen with genuine puzzlement. What kind of work was worth dying for? Yeah, helping the sick and the weak was great if one thought about earning brownie points before ending up in front of Saint Peter’s Gate, but Angola was hell on earth and Jensen couldn’t honestly think that he’d make it alive for more than few hours if he returned to his old job.

As if sensing Jared’s puzzlement, Jensen said, “It’s not out of sense of obligation or the need to die young. I really love my work, Jared. And I’m the kind of person who needs a job he can thrive on. So, it’s for purely selfish reasons, and I’m being honest here.”

“If you put it that way,” Jared drawled. “But something tells me your family won’t be happy with your decision.”

“They’re good Christians. They’ll understand and accept.” Jensen said then saw the bemused look on Jared’s face. “What?”

“You really are different. No wonder mom invited you to this party.”

“What kind of friends do you have exactly?”

Jared grinned. “My best buddy is Chad. He was engaged to a minor who couldn’t bring him to her prom because of their age difference … and there was a little problem with the law but nothing that couldn’t be ironed out with some political pressure from his dad. He did the stint in rehab, the flashy marriage and the flashier divorce. And had few minor brushes with the law.

“He could be a bit of a douche but he’s the most loyal person I’ve ever met. We’ve been friends since Duke. My mother could tell you some hair-raising stories about us during our college days.”

Jensen smiled. “Sounds like an interesting guy. Is he here?”

“No, he’s in Monaco, I think. Maybe Greece now? He’s got this sweet yacht and,” Jared suddenly stopped, realizing he was rambling about something 99.95% of the human population wouldn't know about. “Well, you know the drill.”

“Only what I’ve seen on television,” Jensen dryly replied. “I’ll take your word for it.”

Jared scratched the back of his head in embarrassment. “Sorry, I kinda forget my manners sometimes. But, remember, my mom warned you!”

Jensen’s smile grew and for a moment Jared was breathless. Now that he was face to face with the guy he noticed Jensen’s beauty wasn’t the plastic Hollywood-silicon type. No, this was Nature at her finest and she did a damn good job. Jared thought there would be more than few guys who would go under the knife in order to look like Jensen Ackles, and yet Jensen Ackles would be horrified to hear of such a thing. In fact, Jared bet that if he had access to Jensen’s toiletry kit, he’d find generic shampoo, a small bottle of hair styling gel, and maybe a decent-sized bottle of moisturizer because African heat’s a bitch on the skin.

“Jared, you okay there?”

“Yeah, just wondering about something.”

“Anything I can help you with?”

And wasn’t that a loaded question. Jared shook his head and said, “Why don’t we go find your date before some momma tries to steal him from you.”

“Oh, I doubt that’ll happen any time soon.”

Jared ignored the bite of jealousy when he heard Jensen’s breezy answer. If anything he’d hoped that some matchmaking momma _did_ drag away Tom Welling, preferably to Massachusetts or Croatia, even. To his dismay Tom was still with Megan, keeping a polite distance from the rest of the partying herd by hiding in one of the small balconies overlooking the garden.

“There you are,” Jensen said.

“Megan’s been entertaining me with stories about the pranks she and her brothers pulled on half of San Antonio’s population.”

“Lies, all lies. She has no proof,” Jared said airily and kissed Megan on the top of her head. “Enjoying the party, sweetie?”

“I most certainly am, Sasquatch!”

Tom laughed at Megan’s pet name for her brother. He handed Jensen a cocktail and said, “I saw Mrs. Devereaux few minutes ago.”

Jensen turned to his date. “Really? How is she?”

“She looks good. Want to talk to her?”

Jensen nodded eagerly. He turned to Jared and Megan and said, “Excuse us. And thanks for the invitation. This really is a great party.”

Jared watched Jensen walk away, his gait matching Tom’s perfectly. He couldn’t stop himself from sighing.

“He’s not gay,” Megan said pointedly.

Jared turned to his sister. “Excuse me?”

“Tom Welling. The guy’s not gay.”

“And how do you know that?”

“I can tell these things, Jared, and I’m telling you he’s not gay. Jensen is, or at least he’s bi, but Tom’s straight.”

“But he’s Jensen’s date.”

“That doesn’t make him gay, Jared.”

“It kinds does, actually.”

“No, you idiot, it doesn’t. I don’t know what’s up with them but I am telling you Tom’s not gay, and he sure as hell isn’t tapping that fine ass. So, if you’re interested in Hot Ass Ackles, I suggest you make your move, because you’re not the only guy who’s interested.”

Jared immediately began studying the partygoers and sure enough, Megan was right. As Jensen walked further into the crowd more than few heads turned to his direction. Maybe some of them were interested in Tom, but Jared had the sinking feeling that Jensen Ackles’ fan club was rapidly growing.

“Well, shit.”

“Oh, and here’s Jensen’s number,” Megan said, handing him a cocktail napkin.

“You're amazing, you know that?”

“I didn’t get you anything for your birthday so this was the least I could do.”

Jared laughed heartily and gave another resounding kiss on Megan’s head. “I have the best little sister in the world.”

Megan’s answer was a big smile and a tight hug. Jared took advantage of the embrace and swung his sister around and onto the dance floor. He laughed when Megan made a squeaky noise of surprise as they began swaying to some famous tune from days of yore.


	4. Chapter 4

**Day Three, Part One**

Jensen’s internal clock told him it was close to midnight. During the entire time he worked in Africa Jensen was never able to go to sleep until well past eleven, so he knew he had lost an entire day, at least. Jensen idly wondered if Jared sent Anna away. He doubted it – when knee-deep in crisis his husband was the type to seek comfort from those close to him. Jensen was the opposite; he would try to distance himself from others, as if bracing for bad news by his lonesome made it less painful. However, over the years, he’d gotten used to turning to Jared if things became too much to handle, which was why it hurt him so badly when Jared began deliberately pulling away as the New York project became a reality.

He was beginning to doze off when a memory woke him. Shivers poured through Jensen before he viciously bit his tongue. It was an old trick, but it worked as his mind suddenly shifted its focus on the pain.

Saint Catherine's Hospice never had enough funds to purchase a steady stream of medical supplies from outside Angola. So, when he and Father Dominic were forced to buy much-needed provisions, they had to resort to local towns and cities. They knew entering any crowded area with usable currency, much less American dollars, was tantamount to suicide, but faced with little choice the two would make the journey at dawn, with two young men as bodyguards. Unfortunately, during one such trip, a gang cornered them when they realized the hospice workers weren't armed.

Father Dominic pleaded with the desperate men, but Jensen saw the glassy eyes and knew the thugs were already high on khat and in no shape to listen to reason. The one Jensen pegged as the ringleader punched the Father in his face and then beat him until he was lying on the filthy road. Out of desperation Jensen broke free but before he could reach his friend, the frail old man began convulsing, coughing up blood.

The shocking display was enough to scatter their attackers, as the men were afraid they just killed a foreigner in the open. Jensen fell to his knees, frantically trying to pin his friend's flailing limbs in order to stop the man from harming himself when, suddenly, Father Dominic stilled. Out of shock Jensen released him and watched as the missionary sat up and wiped the blood from his face. Father Dominic saw the astonished look on Jensen’s face and laughed softly.

It was all a show, something the old-timer learned from a seasoned French soldier when he began his vocation. It took some blood but the horrific exhibition was more than enough to get attention or, in some cases, discourage further violence. Jensen felt a mixture of annoyance, relief, and awe as his friend serenely continued on in spite of the bleeding.

Jensen recalled the act and mentally paced himself through it. He knew he would have one chance, if that, and wasn’t about to blow it because he was too hasty. Jensen turned on the light and opened up the cooler to get a drink. He had figured out earlier where the cameras were hidden and calculated the best angle for the show he was about to put on.

Jensen opened the plastic bottle of water and quickly took large gulps, knowing that by doing so he was making himself nauseous. He took a deep breath before dropping to his knees, making loud gagging noises. Then he acted as if his arms suddenly gave out. The sudden collapse allowed him to slam his face onto the concrete floor. He felt the blood gush and tipped his head back, swallowing the blood. That was enough to trigger his gag reflex.

The vomit was colored with the blood he just swallowed, and coupled with his bleeding nose, to anyone watching it would look as if he was throwing up great deal of blood.

Vladovic was aghast as he watched the prisoner coughed up what looked like pints of blood. At first he didn’t know what to think until Masterson said,

“Holy shit, I thought his ulcers were gone!”

“What are you talking about?!” Vladovic yelled.

“Ackles had some ulcer thing few months…”

Vladovic didn’t wait for the rest of the explanation. His paralysis had finally broken. He bolted out of the room and ran down the hall to where containment was located. Vladovic knew enough about ulcers that if they didn’t go untreated, the person could fall ill and die. He didn’t know how long it took but Vladovic wasn’t going to take any chances. Ackles wasn’t going to die on his watch.

He opened the door and saw Ackles slumped lifelessly, faced down in his own vomit and blood.

“Oh shit, oh shit,” Vladovic hissed as he rolled the man onto his back. He prayed for a pulse and found one – strong and fast.

Jensen slammed his head into Vladovic’s face, breaking the man’s nose and shattering his right cheekbone. Vladovic’s head ricocheted back as he howled in pain. Jensen spun around and got to his knees. He cupped his hands together and brought it down full force onto the back of his captor’s neck. The man crumpled forward. Jensen dare not wait any longer and took off. He ran as fast as he could down the dark hallway, and instinctively turned right to face metal stairs leading upwards. He was halfway up when the taser hit his right thigh.

Jensen’s body stumbled forward as the electric current immobilized him. The last thing Jensen felt was his shoulder muscles tightening to the point of agony. Then there was darkness.

* * *

  
**Ploiesti, Romania  
October, 2006**

Jensen had seen more than enough during his two-week tour of the Romanian orphanages. The 'economic revitalization' the country went through in the late 90’s had left a devastating effect on the nation’s children. And though the orphanages made numerous improvements from a decade ago, more were needed. However, funds were severely lacking because the government either didn’t care or couldn’t afford to help further.

Various charitable agencies had made donations through networks specifically tailored not to arouse media’s interest. They hoped that by soothing ruffled feathers, the Romanian government would lift the ban on international adoption. Jensen understood this tactic perfectly. Diplomacy was something he had practiced for years, so he was well aware how quickly skillfully-woven flatteries and quiet monetary exchanges got results.

So, Jensen remained politely quiet but observant, asking non-offensive questions, holding doors for the city officials as they gave the tour of the orphanage located on the outskirts of Ploiesti. Compared to the others he’d seen St. Agnes Orphanage was a big improvement, but Jensen didn’t miss the graveyard in the distance, and the rusting playground that hosted too many children.

He even conversed with the nuns who ran the place through a government-approved translator. Their tough no-nonsense attitude grated the bureaucrats but Jensen appreciated their honesty. He even accepted the nuns’ offer to eat supper with them, to the consternation of the officials.

The dinner was nutritious but almost inedible. Nevertheless, the children ate with gusto and Jensen watched with hawkish eyes as he figured out what food and drinks the children preferred. He mentally calculated the money necessary to buy the provisions and transport them across various checkpoints. Jensen had already made thorough study of various factories near the Romanian border willing to sell supplies, for a price.

Being married to a CEO definitely had its advantages.

He asked questions, fully aware that the translator would probably repeat word for word what he said to his superiors. And the headmistress of the orphanage, Sister Ioana, seemed to understand that as she tactfully answered in near-perfect English. As the children finished their meals, Jensen noticed one girl who barely touched her plate. She didn’t talk with others around her either. All she did was sit and stare at the plate. Something about her somber, disconnected gaze unnerved him.

Jensen saw the girl again at the end of the tour. The bureaucrats had long since departed to their homes, unwilling to brave the institutional food. The nuns were great deal more relaxed though they remained cautious with the translator still in their midst. Only with his departure did the sisters actually speak their minds. Jensen didn’t dare write anything down, of course, as they explained the various hardships faced not only by them but also by other orphanages.

Jensen's tour ended in the large playroom where children enjoyed after-dinner activities. He was listening to a nun reading from a tattered Bible when he spotted the same girl from the refectory. She was sitting by herself, staring at a book in her lap with the same attention she gave to her meal.

“What’s wrong with her?” Jensen asked, pointing at the girl.

“It’s her brother,” Sister Ioana answered sadly.

“Where’s he?”

“He died within weeks of arriving. We tried everything but he was too ill," Sister Ioana said in a defeated tone. "There was nothing we could do.”

“Does she even know that he’s dead?”

“Of course she does, but she desperately clings to hope that we lied to her.”

“Why?”

“Hope, Mr. Ackles, no matter how deceitful, is better than having none at all.”

He stared at the little girl, taking in the grim look on her face. Her hair was neatly braided though greasy and the dress was already too small for her.

“What is her name?”

“Anna. We don’t know her last name.”

“What was her brother’s name?”

“We don’t know,” Sister Ioana replied. “But there are many children whose names remain a mystery to us. So we provide names along with the food and clothing, hoping by doing so the children’s sense of self-worth will grow.”

Jensen looked at the crowd of kids milling around him, all with eager faces and empty eyes, silently pleading to make their lives just a little less miserable. He remembered the graveyard in the back and knew there was already a plot waiting for Anna next to her nameless brother.

For a moment Jensen had to fight the urge to vomit as he was overwhelmed by a strong sense of déjà vu. He closed his eyes and took deep breaths in order to stop losing the meager meal he had earlier. When Jensen was able to focus again he hurriedly approached Anna. Without warning he scooped her into his arms and headed for the exit. Wordlessly and with serene countenance, Sister Ioana opened the door for them. His eyes blurred with tears but Jensen didn’t look back. He remembered his Sunday Bible studies with awful clarity.

Anna began screaming as she realized she was being torn away from the last connection with her brother. She pummeled at him with weak fists but he held her tight. Jensen yelled at the driver to start the car and slammed the door shut as the wheels screamed on the cobbled road. He held Anna tightly until she stopped fighting and started crying.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” Jensen whispered as he rocked the hysterical child in his arms. “I’ll make it better, I promise.”

Anna calmed down as they entered the city center and returned to her trance-like state when they reached his hotel. No one bothered to ask why he suddenly showed up with a little girl in tow. The ramifications of the general laissez-faire attitude sickened him but Jensen kept his peace. And in the morning he immediately began making arrangements to return to the States with Anna.

There was an official ban on international adoptions by the Romanian government, but Jensen knew there had to be ways to go around such bureaucratic bullshit. For once he was glad of Jared’s money and what it could buy, and using all his connections it took ten days before he and Anna entered Budapest. After they checked into a respectable hotel with a decent restaurant, Jensen made the inevitable call home. As expected, the phone conversation was laced with Padalecki-sized hysteria.

“What do you mean we have a daughter?”

“I found us a child, Jared,” Jensen replied calmly. “Remember how many extra hurdles we had to jump because we’re a gay couple? How many fucking agencies slammed their doors on us because one of us doesn’t have a uterus?”

“I know, Jensen, I was there. But what do you mean we _have_ a daughter?”

“Her name’s Anna, and she just turned four. Jared … her brother died in the orphanage. They have a cemetery out back; you can see it from the dormitories. Do you understand that? A graveyard instead of a field.”

“Jesus Christ, so you … what? What did you do?”

“Greased some palms, charmed the right people, bullied even more. I couldn’t leave her there. Anna’s a fighter, Jared. It would’ve taken a long time to kill her, but, in the end, she would’ve been buried in the grave next to her brother whose name nobody knows.”

“So you essentially bought her?”

“Don’t say that,” Jensen said harshly. “Don’t you ever say that!”

“I’m not criticizing you, Jensen. I just want to know what to expect so I can have my attorneys draw up the right paperwork. I don’t want something to bite our asses down the road.”

Jensen took a deep breath. “Yes, I bought her, Jared. But I also bought all the paperwork necessary for the adoption to be legitimate." He paused for a moment before continuing. “Jared, baby, we have a daughter. After a fucking year and half, we have a child.”

“I know, I’m just rambling because I can’t believe it. How big is she? I want to get her bedroom ready before you guys arrive.”

“She’s four but she looks about three, maybe even smaller. We need to arrange medical help for her when we get to back home.”

“What flight are you taking?”

“We’re leaving tomorrow morning at seven on Lufthansa, flight 2504. We’ll reach San Diego by 8 PM. Can you have a car pick us up?”

“Of course. We should wait a few days before taking her to see the doctors. I don’t want to traumatize her too much.”

“I don’t think that’s possible, but thank you for thinking about it.”

“Does she look like you?”

Jensen laughed softly, “No, actually, she looks like a fairy princess. Blonde hair, bright blue eyes, and if she's healthy she’s going to be tall. I can tell already.”

“Remind me to buy a shotgun and a shovel when she hits twelve.”

“Don’t worry about that. My dad will be more than happy to lend us his.”

“Ahh, so that’s how he kept away all those bad boys from getting to his little Jenny.”

“More like Mac. She went through a crazy period back when she was fifteen.”

“But I’m betting he already had the shotgun when she hit fifteen.”

“Shut up. I should get some sleep now. I’ll call you when we leave Budapest.”

“Love you, Jenny.”

“Love you too, asshat.”

Jensen heard Jared’s burst of laughter as he ended the call. His answering smile was brilliant. Even though they’ve been trying mightily to adopt for over a year Jensen was worried Jared was only going through the motions in order to please him. But the conversation he just had convinced him that his suspicions were for nothing.

Jared will take one look at Anna and realize that, indeed, family was the most important thing in the world.

Jensen took another peek into Anna’s room to make sure their daughter was still asleep before going to bed.

 _Daughter,_ the word rolled in Jensen’s head, gathering power as he continued to think about all the repercussions that particular word now has on their lives. Part of him was incredibly anxious, but Jensen learned to embrace new beginnings and not let his fears dictate how he should live.

 _It’s going to be amazing_ , Jensen thought, giddy with hope for his future. For their future.

* * *

  
Eric stared at the laptop, hoping the latest software would be good enough to refine the murky photos taken from hotel's security videos. The laptop chirped, notifying is owner that the enhancements were done. When he saw the pictures, Eric gave a large holler of victory.

He called his boss, “Kim, you better get down here. There's something you need to see.”

It took Manners less than a minute to join his protégé. “I'm guessing you got something good?”

“Yeah, and I patched Jeff on the speaker.”

“Hey Jeff,” Kim said.

“Hey there,” was the gravelly reply.

“The hotel security system is designed to download its recordings onto a private server. I hacked into it and copy six hours worth: three hours before and after the kidnapping. The hotel was built next to a convention center and there’s a skywalk that connects the two buildings. Twenty-three minutes before Mr. Ackles was taken two men crossed the skywalk with what looks like an industrial laundry sorter. Seven minutes after the kidnapping, they come back.

"The cameras never caught their faces. So, either they were very lucky…”

“Or they knew where the cameras were and avoided them,” Kim said, “which makes perfect sense.”

“What makes you think these are our men?”

“The hamper is white. The hotel uses some beige color thing now because they went eco-friendly two weeks back. And one of the guys has a tattoo on the back of his neck. I’ve enhanced it enough to see it. And I’m e-mailing it to you now. Does it look familiar?”

“Yeah, it’s the one the daughter drew.” Jeff replied after a moment of silence. “I did some digging already. All I know is that it’s not a military tattoo.”

Kim put on his glasses and leaned forward. “Well, I’ll be damned. It’s a wannabe.”

“What?” Eric asked.

“It’s a Russian mafia thing. This doofus probably did some time in a Russian prison, but in no way is this guy hardcore.”

“Why do you say that?” Jeff asked.

“The tat is suppose to make him look like he belongs to the mafia, but the bastard’s got it all wrong.”

“How?” Eric asked.

“Well, for one, it’s in the wrong place. That particular tat is a skull and it’s on his neck. That’s just stupid; it’s like advertising to the entire world he’s a convicted killer.” Kim paused to study the picture further. “It’s too clean, too elaborate to be a prison tattoo. And it’s too western for lack of better term. He had that done outside of Russia.”

“But he knows enough about the Russian tat system to at least get something right,” Eric said.

“Oh yeah, but there’s no way in hell this guy’s ever going back to Russia. He takes a step in there, they’ll kill him for pulling such a stunt.” Kim sat back in his chair and said, “I bet he can’t go back in any case. That’s why he has that tat now.”

“Outside of Russia … like Hungary perhaps?” Jeff asked.

“Maybe, but the artist had to have been ignorant of the real deal, probably brand new to the business. No way an old-timer would make a mistake this big.”

“You mean to tell me the mafia would go after the tattooist for this?” Eric asked.

“Definitely,” Kim answered. “I'm telling you this is heavy shit, boys.”

“How about the second guy?” Jeff asked.

“Non-descript, no jewelry, no scars, and no tattoos.” Eric answered. “He’s shorter of the two so he’s probably the ten.”

“Ten?” Jeff echoed.

“Yeah, we found two different shoe imprints on the hotel carpet. Size ten and size twelve.” Kim answered. “Size ten was John Deere and Size twelve was Ken Cole.”

“So the smaller guy’s the professional of the two,” Jeff said. “Makes sense if we take the tattoo thing into consideration.”

“Definitely,” Kim agreed, “and he has an old leg wound. His stride pattern was off because he’s favoring the right leg.”

“You thinking what I’m thinking?” Jeff said.

“I’m already on it,” Kim said.

“On what?” Eric sniped. He got pissed easily when left out of the loop.

“Checking out military discharges the last five years, cross referencing the intel with what we got so far.” Jeff answered.

“Any news from the kidnappers?” Kim asked.

“No, just dead air.”

“That’s not right,” Kim said.

“I know, I was expecting the ransom demand before midnight. I’m getting worried.”

“Do you think something happened to Ackles?” Eric asked.

“Don’t know, and I'm not going to waste precious energy thinking about it. I’ve contacted Ferris’ firm to set up the money drop.”

“So you think this is the real deal,” Kim said.

“Yeah, that was my conclusion on my noon report. I said if Padalecki pays the ransom, Ackles would be released unharmed.”

“But now?” Eric asked anxiously.

“Now? Now I’m not sure.”

* * *

  
Harlan looked at the unconscious man sprawled out on the floor. He then shifted his gaze at Vladovic. Feeling the heat of his boss’ unspoken rage, Vladovic began speaking rapidly in spite of the crippling pain from his facial wounds.

“I swear, I thought he was going to die, with the gagging and the blood he was vomiting.”

“He wasn’t vomiting blood, really,” Jackson said calmly. He knew how this conversation would end and mentally readied himself for it.

“What?” Masterson said, “I saw it too.”

“He was faking it,” Harlan said. “It’s an old trick. Ackles probably learned it during his time in Africa.”

“Where did all the blood come from then?” Vladovic asked.

“He smashed his nose then swallowed the blood.” Harlan answered.

“Why the fuck…” Vladovic began his tirade. Harlan took out his gun and fired one shot right into the man’s skull, killing him mid-sentence.

“Jesus!” Masterson cried out as he scrambled away from the corpse as it keeled over.

Jackson remained quiet, not moving in fear of attracting Harlan’s attention. He watched as Harlan propped the body against the wall, then covered it with one of the blankets.

“Let’s go,” Harlan said.

“We’re going to leave him here?” Masterson asked incredulously.

“Yes, that way when Ackles wakes up he’ll have fucking good reason to behave, since he obviously knows we don’t have his daughter.”

“Won’t he try to see who’s under the blanket?” Masterson asked.

“No, he’s not the type. He’ll see the body and assume he’s the reason Vladovic’s dead. The guilt should chain him down for a while.”

“It won’t be enough,” Jackson said, looking at the outline of Vladovic’s corpse.

Harlan turned to him and said, “What do you suggest?”

* * *

  
The alarm startled Jeff out of his light sleep. He checked his watch. It was not even three in the morning.

“What the fuck?” Jeff said before making his way cautiously to the security room where he found Chris waiting for him.

“I thought it’d be better if you answered,” Chris said.

Jeff flipped him a bird and hit the intercom. “Can I help you?”

“Yes, my name is Terry and I work for Round the Clock Courier Services. I have a special delivery for Mr. Padalecki?”

Chris looked at the various screens. “Looks legit.”

Jeff buzzed the car through the gates. “Stay here, just in case.”

“Will do.”

Jeff made his way to the front door and waited outside. The car pulled up and a young man in a uniform of crisp white shirt and blue slacks stepped out. He had a small package, wrapped in silver paper with a red bow.

“Looks like a late delivery,” Jeff said amicably. “How’d you get it?”

“We picked it up from a guy at the Omni Hotel. Said he couldn’t deliver the present to his niece because he drank too much.”

Jeff signed the paper and asked, “Did you get a look at him? I’m asking because my boss has three brothers and he’s not speaking to one of them, and if this present is from the loser, I don’t want him or his kid anywhere near it.”

The young man said, “Short, little under six feet, average looking, you know? Does that help?”

“Yeah, it does. Thanks.” Jeff said and took the present.

He watched the car drive away and heard Steve’s motorcycle rev up in the darkness. Carlson would follow the courier to make sure the guy was legit, and if not, quietly extract as much information as possible before handing over the man to Ferris. She had places for people who were too valuable to kill and too dangerous to let loose.

The glint of Chris’ gun was the only telltale sign of the man’s presence in the dark corridor. Jeff gave a small nod and the two walked to the office. Jared was asleep on the couch, curled up on himself like a small animal hiding from a predator.

“What is it?” Chris said softly.

Jeff shrugged and put on a pair of surgical gloves before opening the box. When he lifted the lid a small hiss of disgust escaped from his lips. Chris took a peek then looked away, closing his eyes.

“Oh shit,” he whispered before taking a glance at the sleeping man. “What are you going to do?”

“I have no choice. I have to wake him up," Jeff answered as he methodically unfolded a small note taped to the lid of the box.

“This is bad, Jeff. Something definitely went south.”

“I don’t think it’s us. Maybe Ackles did something.”

“What are you going to say to Padalecki?”

“I haven’t a fucking clue,” Jeff confessed. “Best to get this over with.”

He gently shook Jared awake, holding a cup of water as the man groggily came to.

“What’s up?” Jared asked, ignoring the cup. “Did they call?”

"No," Jeff answered calmly, "but they sent us a message. The ransom is fifteen million dollars, to be electronically transferred to Bacatá Banco Internacional in Bogotá, Colombia. This pretty much confirms it's the same gang that robbed all those banks."

"You're talking about drug money," Jared said.

Chris nodded, "The bank has a well-known reputation for serving two cartels: Southern Valley Cartel and the Rojas family, so yeah, drug money probably."

"Okay then ... we pay, right?"

Jeff nodded, "Yeah, we pay. Jared, they sent something else - it's going to be ugly but I need you to identify it."

"What? Did they do something to Jen? Did they torture him? What?" Jared asked, his voice escalating in volume as hysteria quickly set in.

Jeff handed the small box to him. Jared looked at the content and blinked. For a moment he couldn't process what he was seeing. Then he recognized the wedding band. Jared had their rings made exclusively for them so it was easy for him to identify the familiar pattern of vines and leaves. Realizing what that meant Jared once again examined the finger still wearing the band.

"Jared..."

"It's Jensen's." Jared answered woodenly before handing the box back to Jeff. He stood up and bolted out of the room. Chris followed quietly, not bothering to catch up with Jared as the man walked down the hallway and into a small room located at the back of the mansion. He closed the door behind him as Jared picked up a battered guitar and curl up on a well-worn armchair.

"It's his," Jared whispered as he caressed the strings. "Jensen's got real talent, I kept bugging him to cut an album but he wouldn't."

"We'll send it to the lab, just to make sure."

"I want them dead," Jared said, still staring at the guitar. "I don't want them to spend a fucking dime of the money. Not after this ... not after what they've done to him."

"Jared, calm down. You're in shock. You don't know what you're talking about," Chris said gently.

"No," Jared said and met Chris' eyes with a steely gaze. "I was in shock, but I'm not any more. I want the fuckers dead, Chris. Tell me, how much will it cost?"


	5. Chapter 5

**Day Three, Part Two**

Chris personally delivered the gruesome package to the lab and met up with Steve who called him during his drive to San Diego. Chris waited until he was alone with his friend before repeating Jared’s request. To his surprise Steve didn’t look at all shocked.

“I was wondering if he was going to ask that,” Steve said.

“You were expecting him to go off the rails and into the Twilight Zone?”

“He hasn’t cracked. You don’t get to be the head of a powerful company without having a ruthless streak. Did you know the CEO position was slated to go to somebody else when Padalecki Junior snatched it?”

“No, I didn’t read up on the guy. Didn’t have the time,” Chris said defensively.

“The rumor was when his father retired he would hand over the position to Robert Singer who was the VP at the time. Three weeks before his scheduled retirement he changes his mind and gives the reins over to his son who was head of Development and Planning. Singer’s still there, acting as VP. Must have shocked the hell out of him when the CEO chair was pulled out from underneath his ass.”

“You think Padalecki kid had something to do with the coup?”

“I know he had something to do with it. From what I understand, he’s been doing his old man proud since he took over.”

“But how does this make sense with what he asked of us?”

“The kidnappers fucked with his life, Chris. They took everything away, everything he worked for, hoped for, and dreamt of. Yeah, he fucked it up good but that doesn’t mean other people have the right to pull the same shit. He’s got to be seeing red right now, especially with someone disfiguring his husband like that. There’s no way you cannot take that personally.”

“But to kill?”

“He knows the sons of bitches will do it again. Maybe not for five years, or ten, but there will come a day when they’re strapped for cash, and they’re going to remember how easy it was to shake down millions from a desperate husband. Don’t forget these men are aiming to go into business with drug cartels, and that’s a whole ‘nother level of crazy right there.”

“Okay, so let’s say we agree to do the wetwork, how the fuck are we going to track down these bastards in the next thirty-six hours without attracting suspicion? We _know_ Ferris and Morgan will have nothing to do with it.”

Steve sighed, “Actually that’s pretty easy to do.”

Chris didn’t bother to hide his skepticism. “Really?”

Steve nodded, “Really. The question is do we want to do it?”

Chris stared at his old friend, knowing what Steve was thinking. They've killed people, including innocent bystanders because their orders gave them no choice. In the heat of battle, noncombatants weren’t considered as such and were usually lumped into either enemy or friendly category in a blink of an eye. This practice didn’t bother them much until they left the service.

Then it bothered them a great deal, so much so that both avoided well-paying jobs offered by Blackwater in lieu of more tame positions in Ferris’ company.

“He’s right, isn’t he?” Chris asked, already knowing the answer.

“You know he is.” Steve answered. “Hell, they might target Padalecki again just because they know he’ll meet their demands.”

“Familiar hunting grounds and all that,” Chris said softly.

“Yeah,” Steve agreed.

“Do you want to do this?” Chris asked.

“I wouldn’t mind. The money’ll be enough for us to set up our own business and get help for some of our buddies. You know Michaels has to wait for eight fucking months to see a specialist for his kidney problem? He’ll be an addict by the time he finally sees the doc.”

“And there’s Takada,” Chris added.

“Silverman who’s on God knows how many anti-psychotic drugs.”

“I don’t know how much he’ll pay us.”

“Fifteen million, ask him for fifteen million.”

“Jesus, Steve, are you fucking insane?”

“No, it’s a good number, and I think he’ll say yes. In fact, I think he’ll like it.”

“That's a lot of blood money.”

“So what? So what if we get our hands dirty? Silverman, Takada, Michaels, they’ll get the second chance they deserve. The second chance Uncle Sam never gave, the cheap bastard.”

It was then Chris realized his friend was a breath away from throwing punches. He had never seen Steve angry - annoyed, yes, maybe even pissed but never enraged enough to scare him.

“Steve…”

“We got lucky, Chris, you know that, right? I’m never going to run a marathon but we’re not going batshit insane because of pain, real or imagined. All our limbs are in working order, which is more than what half of our friends can say. So what if we kill some piss-ass motherfuckers who decided to make easy money by terrorizing a family? Yeah, Ackles and Padalecki are gay, so who gives a fuck? They rescue a kid rotting away in Romania, bring her here, and against all odds nurse her halfway to normal. Then this shit happens and it’ll probably take them another fucking year before she sees the world right side up.

“So I have no problems erasing the assholes, none at all. Especially if it means giving Takada a chance to see his kid graduate sixth grade.”

Chris couldn’t meet Steve’s gaze during his outburst. The furious words scared him but they also forced him to see reason in its most awful simplicity. He rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms and gave a huge sigh. “So, fifteen million then?”

Steve nodded, “Fifteen million.”

“What’s your plan?”

“You’re going to like it. I guarantee it.”

“Well, shit, lay it on me, son.”

* * *

  
“I just got off the phone with Sam,” Jeff said.

“Ferris? What does she want?” Chris asked.

“A private meeting at seven,” Jeff answered.

Jared looked at the puzzled faces around him. “Isn’t that the norm? Your firm’s about to cough up fifteen million dollars. I’m pretty sure you guys are going to need a guarantee from me that I won’t stiff you the money.”

“It doesn’t work like that,” Justin said.

“Why not?” Jared asked.

“The money’s already guaranteed,” Justin explained. “When you signed the documents allowing the firm to handle these kind of incidents, you also agreed to cover whatever cost the firm will ratchet up while dealing with the case. They should just need to release the ransom money to a private account in a country that doesn’t place too much faith in Homeland Security.”

“Homeland Security?” Jared echoed.

Jeff gave up any pretense of not understanding where the conversation was heading. “After 9/11 all monetary transactions over certain amount are automatically scrutinized and sometimes halted. That’s why we can’t electronically wire fifteen million directly from one of your accounts to a bank in Bogotá. That’s going to get too much attention from all the alphabet agencies and questions are bound to rise.”

“Alphabet?” Jared said, feeling frustrated with the language the men used so carelessly around him.

“CIA, FBI, NSA, DEA,” Steve explained. “Alphabet agencies.”

Jared gave a tired nod of understanding. “So what? What if they end up finding out it’s ransom money? What can they do?”

“A lot, considering the bank,” Jeff answered. “The DEA can make a case against you, saying you’re ‘supporting’ drug trafficking. It’s all bullshit of course and the case will probably fall through on appeals, if it even gets that far.”

“But that’s not a risk you want to take considering how fucking long these cases take to get to court to begin with” Chris added. “But all bets are off if Homeland Security gets involved.”

“Why would they want to get involved?” Justin asked, earning a look of gratitude from his boss.

“Domestic terrorism,” Steve answered. “It’s all too easy for a similar scenario to come up, but instead of money the kidnappers could demand a blueprint to a federal building or a keycard that gives them access to a national monument. So, the government will use you as an example to dissuade any other desperate victim from caving into the kidnapper’s demands.”

“Jesus,” Jared whispered. “They can actually do all that?”

Jeff nodded, “Fifteen million to Bacatá Banco Internacional, they’ll definitely think twice before letting that go through.”

“So the kidnappers already know the insurance firm will make the actual payment,” Justin said.

“Yeah, looks like,” Chris said. “Which means they’re familiar with how the ransom’s paid out.”

“Did you guys ever consider the fact that this could be an inside job?” Justin asked bluntly. “The kidnappers have been consistently one step ahead of us the entire time. And I get the feeling it’s going to be like that right up to the end.”

“We have a system already in place to deal with that,” Jeff said. “The firm goes into lockdown the moment a team is formed to deal with the situation. So, the only people in the firm who knows about the kidnapping are all in this room besides Sam and she’s the only one who’s got access to everything. With the lab it’s just Eric and his boss, and they only answer to Sam. If we need more people they have to get clearance first from either Sam or myself. No one else.”

The explanation seemed to satisfy Jared so Jeff decided a hasty breakfast was in order before the meeting with Ferris.

While making a fresh pot of coffee, Jeff asked Jared, “If Ackles wasn’t your date then how long did you wait before you went after him? Because if my memory serves me correctly you guys started dating before the year was out.”

“How do you know that?” Jared asked, irked that all he had done in the last hour was revealing his ignorance.

“I read it in the GQ interview you gave in 2005,” Jeff answered.

Jared shook his head, “Sorry, I forgot all about that. Seems like a lifetime ago.”

“Don’t sweat it,” Jeff said gently.

“Four days,” Jared answered weakly, “four very long days.”

* * *

  
**July 23, 2000**

Jared waited for the requisite four days before calling Jensen. To his relief and surprise Jensen was amiable to meeting him for lunch. However, Jared ended up eating by himself as his date never showed. Initially he thought he was blown off, but Jensen did not seem the type to be so rude: he would at least call to explain why he'd cancel. Worry, not annoyance, compelled Jared to the hotel Jensen was staying.

When Jensen opened the door, Jared's worry escalated to full-blown fear.

"What happened?" Jared asked as he took in the man's disheveled appearance, red-rimmed eyes and pale face.

“They were murdered. All of them," Jensen answered dully.

“What do you mean all?” Jared asked, confused.

“Everyone at the hospital and the camp - patients, counselors, nurses, even Father Dominic and Sister Marie. All of them. There are no survivors.”

“Oh Jesus,” Jared whispered as he collapsed on the sofa next to Jensen.

“When the searchers reached the camp … they said it was like all the others. They were butchered, raped, and tortured.” Jensen rubbed his mouth furiously with the back of his hand. “The motherfuckers used machetes. Didn’t want to waste bullets I guess. Maybe some of the healthier kids made it out but it’s a war zone, Jared. Where are they going to go? Where are they going to run?”

Jared hugged Jensen as tears slowly fell from him. When people died around Jared, gentle words were used: succumbed, passed away, and such. Murder, butchered, rape – none of these things filtered into his life until now. As Jared held Jensen in his arms, he suddenly realized that even as horrific as the words were, they were part of Jensen’s life, and if Jared wanted to get to know him better, it meant Jared had to get used to them.

 _I’m so sorry_ seemed both pathetic and inadequate so Jared didn’t say anything. He just held Jensen, allowing the man to grieve for a loss Jared was privileged enough to never contemplate. After he stopped crying Jensen began to talk about his work. At first it sounded terrible, but soon thereafter Jared began to understand why Jensen had chosen such a dangerous occupation.

For hours that followed they talked, and when evening soothed over the skyline Jared came to the sobering conclusion that he was very much falling in love. And it terrified him because Jensen was someone who had no need of Jared’s money or power, so all the usual avenues that Jared took to woo a person were rendered useless. With this man Jared had to be inventive, original, and damn lucky.

Jared waited until well into evening before convincing Jensen he needed to eat. Since he knew the hotel's room service was considered dismal he took Jensen to a local Indian restaurant famous for its tandoori dishes. Jared knew his new friend wouldn't eat much but that didn't stop him from ordering half the menu. He was determined that Jensen eat something, even if it meant pecking at the various plates spread out in front of him.

 _I know we can’t save the world, but I’ll help you try. You and me, buddy. To the end._ Jared thought as he watched Jensen eat a small helping of tandoori chicken.

The promise echoed in Jared’s heart long after he dropped Jensen off at the hotel. And the terrible joy it brought made it impossible for him to fall asleep. Instead, he looked over the various reports piled on his desk and thought about a future that was no longer so nebulous. He drew a list of things that needed to be done in the coming weeks. First being seducing Jensen. And that task seemed daunting enough to keep Jared wide awake for the rest of the night.

* * *

  
Sam entered the office with none of her usual flair. In fact, Jeff thought his boss looked like she just checked out of a hospital and against her doctor’s advice.

“Gentlemen, thank you for seeing me. I know your time is precious so I’ll get right to the point. A month ago a discrepancy in our finances caught my attention. A week later, my CFO, Thomas Welk, fled to Saudi Arabia with the money he had funneled from the firm. As it turns out he had been secretly buying various securities and stocks for last two years with the company's money.

“For a man who was suppose to have been so brilliant with finances, he sucked shit when it came to actual investing. In fact, the money he finally ended up with is less than twenty percent of what he started with. To put it bluntly, we don’t have the money to pay the ransom.”

“Oh my God,” Chris whispered.

“We are tracking down Welk, and it won’t be long before we have him back, but that operation will take at least two weeks, and the kidnappers want the ransom money by noon, tomorrow?”

“Yeah, so if the firm can’t pony up then, Jared, what kind of liquid assets do you have?” Jeff asked.

“Not anywhere close to fifteen million, and I know my dad doesn’t have anything like that either,” Jared answered. “Most of our money’s been invested in the Ross Tower, including our shares in the company.”

“Is there any way you can borrow from a bank?” Jeff asked.

“Not in twenty-four hours,” Jared answered.

“What about the firm?” Chris asked Sam.

“No, we need collateral and we haven’t got enough.”

“And wouldn’t that send up a red flag to the Feds?” Justin said.

“Fuck them,” Jared said hoarsely. “I don’t give a shit about that anymore. If I can’t pay the ransom … they’ll kill him. Oh God, they’ll kill Jensen.”

Justin shook his head, “Maybe you can’t, but you have friends, sir.”

“What are you talking about?” Ferris asked.

“He’s right,” Jared said. “Mike Rosenbaum, Tom Welling, and Chad Murray. They might be able to loan us what we need.”

“Contact them, and make sure they get here as soon as possible,” Ferris said. "I apologize but I have to return to the firm. Please contact me as soon as you've spoken to your friends."

“I will,” Jared said as he began calling.

It spoke a great deal about how these men viewed their friendship with Padalecki when all three arrived less than an hour later. Rosenbaum was still in his pajamas and bathrobe, and Welling looked like he came straight from the gym. Jeff suspected Murray was still wearing the outfit he had on the night before, reeking cigarette smoke and booze.

“Dude, what the fuck?” Chad asked in exasperation as he dove for the fresh coffee on the table. “I haven’t had the need to eat breakfast since Duke, man!”

“And it shows,” Tom said dryly. “Jared, what happened? Where’s Jensen?”

Jared opened his mouth to answer but nothing came. Instead he sat on the nearest armchair and buried his face in his hands.

“Is something wrong with Jensen? Is he in a hospital or something?” Chad asked, the coffee all but forgotten.

“Please sit down. We have some very bad news,” Jeff said.

The three man all sat around the table, eyeing Jared with worried stares.

“Mr. Ackles has been kidnapped,” Jeff said.

“Oh hell,” Mike hissed. “How much are they asking for?”

“Fifteen million,” Jared answered hoarsely.

“Don’t you have a firm that handles all that stuff?” Chad asked.

“I am representing that firm,” Jeff answered, “and unfortunately due to unforeseen circumstances, we won’t be able to get the money for few weeks.”

“How much time did they give you?” Mike asked.

“One day, and I honestly believe the kidnappers will not wait a minute longer,” Jeff said.

“They sent me his finger,” Jared said, “it was still wearing the wedding band. The lab called few minutes ago. They tested the tissue and said Jensen was alive when they cut it off. I don’t know if I’m suppose to be happy or sad: happy that he’s still alive, or sad because they … he was awake when they did it. I just don’t know anything anymore.”

“Is there an account already set up?” Mike asked flatly.

“Yes, in Brussels. That way we won’t be attracting too much attention.”

“I have eight that I can wire directly over; it won’t be a problem.” Mike said.

“Two,” Tom said. “Any more and I’m going to need another day.”

“Don’t sweat it, Tom. I have the other five covered,” Chad said.

“You guys realize you might get in real trouble for doing this,” Jeff cautioned. “Not that I’m in any way discouraging you.”

“I’ve done this before,” Mike said, earning shocked glances from everyone. “Three years ago my dad got taken while he was doing a tour of the newest factory in Spain. He nearly died of dehydration because the fuckers locked him up in a room without any ventilation. He had two heart attacks before the doctors could stabilize him.”

“You never said anything,” Chad said.

Mike shook his head, “It wasn’t something you can talk over a Tuesday night poker game, and we wanted to forget about it ASAP. Anyway, that’s why I’ve got so much cash humming in a personal account in Hong Kong, been saving it for a rainy day such as today.”

Chad shrugged carelessly. “It pays to have portable goods around when you supply the bling-bling to the elite. Got the five in diamonds at home. Can liquidate it probably by ten, definitely by noon. No questions asked.” Chad paused for a moment then added, “I love my life.”

“Why the hell do you have five million dollars worth of diamonds stashed in your sock drawer? Isn’t that dangerous?” Tom asked Chad.

Chad shook his head, “Not really, the Grammys are coming up and that means there’s going to be shitload of ‘artistes’ lined up in front of my place, looking for custom-made crap." Chad saw the amused look on Mike’s face and said, “Do you think people watch those dumbass award shows because they actually _appreciate_ the performing arts? No, man, it’s all about the red carpet and what people are draping themselves in.”

“So says a true entrepreneur,” Mike said dryly.

Tom took a glance at Jared and saw the indescribable look on his face. “Jared, don’t worry about the money. We’ll get Jensen back.”

Jared didn’t say anything, he only gave a tense nod. Jeff stood up and gave each man a piece of paper with the bank’s ID code and account number. “They can process the transaction even after five. It’s one of their specialties.”

“Sounds good,” Mike said and stood up to leave.

“How’d you guys like to get on the ground floor of my NY project?” Jared said, his voice rough with emotion.

“The Tower?” Tom asked. “Are you serious?”

“Jared, that’s some heavy real estate you’re offering.” Mike cautioned his friend. “You should think about it, but after all this shit’s over.”

Jared shook his head, “No, after this I’m moving my family the fuck away from here, and maybe NYC isn’t a bad place to stay for a while. And if I am, I’d like to continue our poker tradition. Can’t trust too many people to not cheat, you know.”

“That would be so sweet!” Chad said. “Hell, I always wanted a pad in NY!”

“Oh God, you’re going to be my neighbor?” Tom said with exaggerated horror.

Mike grinned, “Now there’s a scary thought.” He stared at Jared with appraising eyes but a gentle smile. “Just do what needs to be done and get our Jenny boy back, okay?”

Jared nodded before shaking each of his friend’s hands as farewell. He stayed in the armchair as he doubted he could stand.

“Remarkable men, all of them,” Steve said softly. “Didn’t bat an eye when they offered the money.”

“Good friends, even the jackass,” Chris chimed in, earning a small guffaw from Jared.

Jeff was still talking into his cell when he returned. “Yeah, the money’s set. So what about the transportation and medical help?”

Whatever the answer was it seemed to please him. “Okay, I’ll tell him.”

Jeff hung up and said, “The moment Jensen’s released we’re going to take your family and Hartley to Massachusetts where Sam has arranged an entire hospital floor for your disposal. At the same time we’ll be alerting the security for all your family members. They’ll probably relocate them to a safe area and wait for twenty-four hours before visiting you.

“That way we can be relatively sure that this scenario won’t repeat again. So, it’s best if you pack now. Nothing big, we don’t want to draw any attention. Maybe an overnight bag for each of you. Is this acceptable?”

“Yeah,” Jared said, “I should talk to Anna. She must be climbing the walls by now.”

Justin followed his boss without a backwards glance. Steve stared at the bodyguard with open curiosity as he disappeared from sight. “That there is a man madly in love,” he said softly. “Poor bastard.”

“He’s in love with his boss?” Chris asked.

“No, not with Padalecki,” Steve answered.

Chris mouthed a silent ‘oh’ then said, “Poor bastard doesn’t even begin to cover it.”

Jeff suddenly barked, “What did you two talk about in the lab?”

“None of your fucking business?” Chris answered sharply.

“That’s right, and let’s keep it that way. If you guys are up to something, I don’t want to know about it, ever. Is that clear?”

Steve nodded, “Not a problem.”

“Get out of here, I got work to do,” Jeff said as he planted himself in front of the desk.

The two men didn't look back as they left the office. By unspoken agreement they made their way poolside.

“That was freaky,” Chris said.

“He’s not an idiot. He suspects something,” Steve said, “but he’s not going to do anything. He has to focus all his attention right now on the job. After that, what can he do?”

Chris nodded and pulled out a cigarette. “Still makes me nervous though.”

“You always were the nervy one,” Steve said good-naturedly. “Did you talk to Jim?”

“Yeah, he took the job.”

“What did you offer?”

“We’re bringing him back,” Chris replied with a stubborn set to his jaw.

“Back … back as in here? Back in the States?”

Chris nodded and studiously focused on his boots as Steve stared at him with a look of astonishment.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Steve finally blurted out.

“Nope, look, it’s been _ten_ years. Nobody’s looking for Beaver now, and he deserves to die on home soil, don’t you think?”

“I thought his cancer was in remission.”

“For now,” Chris said, “but who knows for how long?”

“Fuck,” Steve grimaced, “yeah, okay, so where do we put him?”

“Massachusetts, maybe Seattle if he wants to head west. But even if one of our guys recognizes him, they’re not going to blow the whistle: not after what he’s been through.”

“He killed one of us,” Steve reminded his friend. “That always earns some kind of payback.”

“If anyone deserves to die, Tiber was it. Hell, if I knew what he was doing, I would’ve killed the sick fuck myself.”

Steve grabbed the cigarette from his friend’s hands and started smoking. “Does he need anything?”

“No, he’s been down there so long he’s got all the connections he needs.”

“How do we get him stateside?”

“Leave that to me,” Chris answered. “By the way, Beaver says your idea’s fucking insane, but he thinks it’ll work.”

“What about Padalecki? What did he say?”

“I was about to go ask him. You want to come?”

Steve nodded and flicked the cigarette into the pool. “Yeah, I want to see his face when he hears this. That way I’ll know if he’ll crack or not. Remember, if he agrees to this he’s going to be implicated in a murder or, more likely, murders, so I want to make sure he knows what he’s getting into.”

“Thought you might say that.”

The two men found Jared sitting in his bedroom, holding a picture of Jensen. The man’s face had hollowed drastically from Christmas Eve when Steve had first seen him.

Jared shook his head and motioned for them to follow him to a balcony that ran parallel to the master suite. He closed the door behind them and took a deep breath. “I’m assuming you thought about my request earlier.”

“We accept,” Chris said.

“How much?”

“Fifteen million,” Steve answered.

“Done, but it’ll take me a month to get the money. Is that all right with you?”

“Not a problem,” Chris said. “And another thing – the ransom money, you can’t have it back. As long as it stays in Colombia, no one will suspect you.”

“I don’t care about the goddamn ransom money,” Jared hissed. “It’s poison as far as I’m concerned.”

“Then we have an agreement,” Steve said. “We already started the ball rolling so if you want to back out, you have to do it now.”

Jared shook his head, “Not backing out. They stole my family then terrorized and maimed us for life. And it was all for money, nothing else.” Jared paused for a moment before asking, “Why do they have to have twenty million? Why couldn't they have settled with the eight they already had?”

“They promised the cartel twenty million, so they had no choice but to deliver,” Chris answered. “For the cartels, twenty million is petty cash. To them it’s about trust and the ability to keep one's promises. If the kidnappers weren’t able to pony up the twenty mil, the cartel would’ve killed them just for wasting their time.”

“Jesus Christ,” Jared whispered. “Who in their right mind would want to get into bed with these guys?”

“Crazy or greedy, or both,” Steve said, “which would go a long way in explaining the kidnapping. Anyway, the ransom money is unrecoverable. So I suggest you forget about it. Another thing, you must never speak to anyone about this, not even Jensen. Do you understand why?”

Jared nodded, “I’m going to start forgetting it now, and there’s no way in hell I’m putting this on Jensen’s shoulders. Not after what … no, he deserves a fresh start, as far away as possible from this fucking nightmare.”

“All right then,” Chris said and turned to Steve. “We understand each other perfectly, yeah?”

Steve nodded and placed a gentle hand on Jared’s forearm. “In less than a day you, your husband and your daughter will be together again. Just focus on that, nothing else.”

“I’m getting real tired of the ‘carrot-and-the-stick’ speech.”

“We’ll leave you to finish packing,” Chris said and tugged Steve along with him.

Steve pragmatically kept quiet until they were out of earshot. Then he gave Chris a shove to express his annoyance and nothing more, as he was well aware of Jeff’s bugs scattered about the mansion. Chris grimaced but said nothing as the two made their way to the kitchen. They were finishing up the coffee when Jeff joined them.

“Padalecki’s friends came through. The money was transferred fifteen minutes ago. Sam just got the confirmation call from the bank.”

“Oh thank God,” Steve said, “man, when Sam told us the firm didn’t have the money, I was about to have a heart attack.”

“It must have killed her to find out she was betrayed like that,” Chris said.

“Don’t feel sorry for her,” Jeff said. “She’ll get her pound of flesh. You can bet on that.”

“When did they say they’re going to contact us?” Chris asked as he finished his meal.

“Fourteen-hundred hours. They haven’t said anything else about the exchange. Cagey bastards.”

“So we wait,” Steve said.

“We wait,” Jeff echoed with a nod.

* * *

  
**Cartagena, Colombia**

Max Zweig, née James Beaver, docked his old fishing boat, waving at familiar faces, smiling widely when few enthusiastically waved back. He had visited Cartagena many times, enjoying the city’s old world charms and good food. His reputation as a marine mechanic was well established all along the coasts of South America, but he had chosen this particular port because of its charms, not for its selection of clientele. For that he had Rio and other, ritzier, spots.

Jim took with him one duffle to the airport where a small charter plane waited. He was among a group of German tourists and since he spoke the language fluently Jim had a lively discussion with the energetic crowd. There was another reason for this – he wanted the pilot to remember a German man of middling looks and height.

As the plane landed in Bogotá he hefted his duffle gently onto his lap. Most of the equipment was safely ensconced in containers but Jim still felt uneasy as the plane went through a rough touchdown. The lady to his right, called Eva, offered him a ride into the city and he accepted with a gentle touch on her right forearm. Predictably the widow blushed and flirted shamelessly as the two sat together in the touring bus.

The group got out in front of an old-fashioned hotel where an army of bellhops waited with luggage carts. Jim promised the widow he would call her at the hotel as soon as he was settled. The lie amused him greatly as he threaded his way to the poorer yet genteel side of the city. He was the type of man who could love only once, and the woman who could claim such a victory passed away years ago. For a moment Jim was overwhelmed with sadness for Bogotá was a beautiful and vibrant city, and his beloved Marissa would’ve been ecstatic to spend some time in a place such as this. And their daughter, Laurie, would’ve been even happier to do the same.

The memory of his murdered child refocused the former Marine, and Jim quickly got himself a room from a small but not-too-shabby hotel. He reread the e-mail Chris sent to him. It was written in a code he taught the young man when he was still too young to legally drink beer. Jim fondly remembered the first time he met the boy who would become a surrogate son. Seventeen-years-old, Chris was still small enough to be considered a runt by the other boys, and thus he was never invited to play any kind of sport with them. So, with limited forms of entertainment available, Chris had taken to haunting Jim’s store. When Jim had first opened the small new and used bookstore in Fayetteville, people were stunned. What did a former Marine who specialized in armaments know anything about books? Or running a business involving books?

But coupled with his tenacity and Marissa’s love of literature, the store actually thrived. Not all soldiers, extraordinary or otherwise, could exist on beer and television exclusively. So, it wasn’t long before Trojan Bookstore became popular for the denizens of Fayetteville and Fort Bragg. In fact, after three years it was possible for Jim to buy out the five-and-dime store adjacent to his business. Jim and his family immediately set to remodeling, and it was then Marissa became ill.

She was a fighter, and managed to live three months beyond what the doctors predicted. Her funeral was one of the largest on record as their patrons, friends, and family members all attended the ceremony. If it weren’t for Laurie, Jim would’ve been more than happy to be buried alongside his wife, as his grief was endless. But he somehow continued living, if only for his daughter's sake.

That ended the day a group of kids found Laurie’s remains scattered alongside a biking trail. The furor that rose from his child's brutal murder could not be contained. The soldiers, no matter what branch of the armed forces, took personal offense when one of their own suffered such a casualty. And the men that called Fort Bragg home were especially ferocious about this practice. Chris, who had become an operator for the Special Forces, really took the murder to heart and personally kept tabs on the investigation. A month went by when an anonymous tip led to the arrest of a man Chris considered a friend and a trusted colleague.

Jonathan Tiber didn’t bother to deny what he had done, and bragged about it when interrogated by the police department. Because of Tiber's military status, Jim knew that Laurie's killer would be made an offer: a confession in exchange for a lighter sentence. So, when the opportunity arose, Jim shot the murderer at point blank range, killing him.

Chris heard about the shooting and found Beaver in his house, waiting for someone to come and arrest him. He hustled his old friend and confidant to a small coastal town and convinced a captain of a fishing vessel to transport Jim one-way to Costa Rica. During the voyage Jim thought about killing himself, but was unable to go through with it because he wanted to join his family when he died. He found menial work in Costa Rica and Panama, applying his skills as a mechanic.

Two months after his escape Jim received a large package from Chris. There were news clippings detailing the discovery of Tiber’s collection of memento mori. The police had found he was not only a rapist, but also a serial killer. Tiber had started four years before he murdered Laurie, and the body count was conservatively estimated to be eighteen. The word ‘prolific’ was used repeatedly in the articles. This changed many things for Jim. Killing an operator meant a death sentence for him, but because of Tiber's crimes, Jim would be relatively safe from the super-soldiers as they were pragmatic enough to realize Tiber didn’t deserve such loyalty from them. Chris had also sent a bank check for twenty-seven thousand dollars from the sale of the bookstore and a false ID whose name was on the check.

Jim bought a used boat and a new identity with the money and began earnestly plying his trade as a marine mechanic. He kept in touch with Chris, especially when he was diagnosed with cancer. Jim was actually happy when he discovered his illness – it meant he could die without fear or shame. Unfortunately, the treatments were successful and he was forced to live.

As the years passed by Jim started to reminisce about the home he left behind. He missed good old-fashioned burger and beer joints, cool North Carolina nights, and the sound of music wafting from various cars parked around a swimming hole. So, when Chris’ offer came, the incentive was too much for Jim to turn down. He knew exactly what had to be done and wasn't a bit squeamish about it. After he was smuggled out of the States, he killed two more men – one who was about to rape a little boy, and another who tried to stab him with a broken bottle. He also knew his target was dangerous, and that he couldn’t make a single mistake. But Steve’s plan was pretty damn good one, and with a little finesse and a lot of luck, Jim would be headed back home in a month or less.


	6. Chapter 6

**Day Four**

The pain that greeted Jensen when he opened his eyes made him realize that waking up was a very bad idea, and his thirst could wait in face of so much pain. Mercifully, he heard the sweet call of darkness and quickly returned to its comforting embrace.

Jackson watched the man slowly slip back into unconsciousness and let out a quiet sigh of relief. The last thing he needed was Ackles awake. He was more than a little fearful Harlan would break focus and turn his attention on their prisoner. Ever since Vladovic’s execution, Harlan was acting off-kilter. Masterson wouldn't notice so slight a change, but Jackson’s been with Harlan for nearly five years and the old soldier knew his boss was slowly unraveling.

Jackson heard Harlan’s footsteps and composed himself: he couldn’t appear distracted.

“The car’s ready,” Harlan said. "Ian, load up Ackles."

Jackson began bundling up the unconscious man in a blanket.

Harlan turned to Masterson. “Did you get everything?”

Masterson nodded and patted his computer bag. “We are good to go. Man, I can’t wait to get out of this shit hole.”

Harlan's response was shooting Masterson twice in the head. Then he turned to Jackson and calmly said, “I’ll grab the gear, you wait in the car with Ackles.”

Jackson nodded. Masterson was good at what he did but his talents didn’t make him invaluable, and the last thing they needed was extra weight. He slung Ackles over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and navigated the tricky stairs. The dawning sun made him refocus his vision before going out into the open.

Jackson carefully arranged Ackles in the back of the SUV, making sure the man was tightly bound with duct tape. After finally satisfied that Ackles wasn’t going to be in any state to bolt, Jackson took a long look at the freighter that doubled as their temporary home for the last five weeks.

Marietta was a transpacific freighter hauling goods between Australia and the Americas. Three months ago, her entire crew was swept in a sting operation focused on human trafficking. Their absence made it easy for Harlan and his men to set up base in the ship since port authority only performed cursory checks on the freighter. Yesterday Harlan told him the crew would be released in two weeks and Jackson guessed they would haul ass back to Australia. They would, no doubt, find the slight alterations Harlan and his men made to some of the holds, not to mention the corpses of Masterson and Vladovic, but the crew would never think to double back and report their findings to the authorities. In fact, Jackson was pretty damn sure they would dump the bodies into the Pacific and ignore the rest.

Jackson smiled a little as Harlan jogged down the gangway. “I see I’m not the only one happy to get out of there.”

Harlan grinned. “Let’s get this over with.”

“Amen to that,” Jackson replied.

* * *

  
Jared held Anna tightly in his arms. She was visibly trembling while being escorted to the private jet, and once they were seated Anna began slowly crying without making a sound. Jared remembered what his daughter was like when she first came to the U.S. so he spotted the withdrawal signs immediately.

“It’ll be just few hours more. Then we’ll all go far, far away.” Jared whispered as he rocked Anna slowly. “After that I’ll get us a big, beautiful boat and we’ll go wherever we want – the Bahamas, maybe France or even Italy. Hell, we can even go to Alaska and chase bears if you guys feel up to it. But it’ll be up to you to convince Daddy that since we’re all on vacation we can eat as we please. You know how choosy he is about food.”

Anna’s death grip on her stuffed toy relaxed marginally. “What can we eat in Alaska?”

“I don’t know, maybe moose burgers?”

“Yuck!”

“Okay, eagle ice cream?”

“Papa!”

Jared smiled and gave a firm kiss on Anna’s forehead. “Okay, okay, I guess we’ll just have to stick to chocolate cakes and strawberry ice cream.”

“And sushi,” Anna chimed in. “Daddy likes sushi.”

“I guess we can squeeze in sushi between caramel popcorn and hot chocolate.”

“We’re going to get fat!”

“Damn right we are,” Jared said. Steve’s cell rang and Jared immediately tensed as he watched the man softly speak.

“They’re ready,” Steve said.

“Any sign of the kidnappers?”

“No, but they went early.” Steve didn’t bother to explain why but Jared guessed it had something to do with Chris and a large duffel bag the man was carrying when they left the mansion.

“Papa?”

Anna’s frightened voice snapped Jared out of his thoughts. He said, “It’s almost over now, baby. Then you, me, daddy, and Mr. Pooh are going to go far, far away.”

“To the moon?”

“If necessary, then yes,” Jared replied as he watched Steve pull out another phone and began speaking. He closed his eyes and added, “And I’ll build a castle so high and so strong, nobody will ever bother us again.”

* * *

  
Jeff saw the SUV before it made the turn off the street and into the empty parking lot. The abandoned factory was perfect for the drop-off as Chris was able to grab an excellent position to cover the area. Unfortunately, Jeff had a bad feeling that was exactly why the kidnappers had chosen the place for the exchange.

The car stopped twenty feet away and a man got out. The cheap Halloween mask he was sporting made his head seem startlingly small when compared to his well-built frame. Not that the stranger caused much concern for Jeff. For all he knew this guy was a thug hired just for the transaction. Then Jeff had to reassess his speculation as the man began walking. His pronounced limp signaled to Jeff that he was dealing with Mr. John Deere, Size Ten.

The kidnapper motioned for Jeff to approach the car, so he did with caution. He watched as the man open the rear hatch and step aside. Jeff saw Ackles and barely managed not to wince. The man’s face was swollen, his nose obviously broken. Jeff also suspected Ackles to be suffering from internal injuries as the man’s breathing was labored and thin. However, he said nothing of his concerns and instead checked for a pulse. It was too slow for his liking but Jeff just stepped back and nodded.

Mr. Deere deposited Ackles to the ground and waited as Jeff called to make the transfer. There was a tense moment as both waited in silence before the kidnapper’s cell rang. He said nothing and listened. Jeff waited quietly. He knew Chris was watching them through a telescope and would drop Mr. John Deere if he made one bad move. Jeff also suspected the kidnapper had backup ready to do the same thing should he pull a similar stunt.

John Deere finished the call and stepped back. Jeff didn’t stop him and just watched as he drove away. Then he pressed a button on a small device he had palmed in his left hand and watched as a helicopter appeared on the horizon. Jeff deposited Ackles into the bird as soon as it touched the ground. Taking advantage of the view he looked down at the parking lot as the copter took off and spotted a flash of light from the roof and Chris’ figure as the man left his vantage point.

Jeff called Steve. “We have Ackles. He’s in bad shape.”

“I’ll contact the hospital. Can we stabilize him or does he need a doctor now?”

“He’ll keep but we should get an I.V. into him, just in case.”

“That won’t be a problem,” Steve said. “Just get here.”

“Don’t plan on doing anything else,” Jeff said snappishly.

“Sir, we’re approaching the airport now,” the pilot said.

Jeff ended the call and waited impatiently as the helicopter landed near the jet. He didn’t even wait for the copter to fully touch down before jumping out. Steve rushed to help him deposit Ackles onto the ground. The two quickly undressed the unconscious man until Ackles was naked. Steve threw a flannel blanket over the nude figure before combing through the man's hair, looking for bugs and other electronic devices.

Jeff handed the clothes to the pilot and said, “Make sure everything reaches the lab together."

The pilot nodded and walked back to his bird as Steve and Jeff carried Ackles into the waiting jet. Steve spotted Chris trotting towards them and gave a mental sigh of relief. Chris' idea of driving would leave professional stunt drivers updating their insurance coverage.

Jared was anxiously standing by the entrance and moaned when he saw the state his husband was in. “Why did you take his clothes off?” Jared asked.

“It’s just a precaution,” Jeff explained as he and Steve gently placed Ackles on the fully reclined seat. He turned Ackles’ face towards the window so Anna wouldn't be forced to stare at him during the flight. “Couldn’t take the chance that the kidnappers slipped in a little surprise for us.”

Jared blanched but said nothing else. Instead, he sat next to Jensen and held onto to the man’s right hand as the jet took off.

Anna was nearly overwhelmed with the need to see her father but managed to hold herself back while she watched her Papa's unwavering stare at Daddy. She had never witnessed her Papa being so tender with him and felt something in her unwind and relax.

 _We’ll be okay,_ she thought with a secretive smile. So, instead of joining her fathers, Anna watched contently as Papa nursed her Daddy with loving words and kind touches.

“Your daddies really do love each other,” Chris whispered into her ear.

She nodded sagely and replied, “Of course they do. They’re smart!”

For reasons Anna couldn’t comprehend Chris suddenly burst into laughter, attracting odd looks from his friends. But since it didn’t look like he minded, Anna didn’t much care either. She was too busy planning ways to get Daddy to let them eat ice cream for breakfast and blueberry waffles for dinner.

It was eight in the evening when the jet landed in a small commercial airport outside Boston.

“Why didn’t we land in Logan?” Jared asked as Chris and Steve loaded Jensen onto the waiting Medevac helicopter.

“Sam has an arrangement that allows certain flights of hers to be off-listed. That way this particular trip won’t show up on FAA data.”

Jared was startled by the explanation. That kind of discretion took a lot of power and he wondered exactly who Ferris knew that allowed her such freedom. The ride to the Boston hospital took less than thirty minutes, and Jared was relieved to see a full medical crew waiting on the helipad. The team rushed to the copter and quickly loaded Jensen onto a gurney before taking off.

A man in a very expensive suit greeted the group and led them to what he called 'the private wing’ of the hospital. They were shown to a suite of rooms where they could refresh themselves and order food if they wanted to eat. For the first time since the entire nightmare started Jared actually felt hungry. He ordered a hamburger for himself and a tuna melt for Anna. When the meals came the entire group ate as if they haven’t been fed for days. Jared noticed even Anna finished her plate, a first for her.

A doctor entered the room with multiple folders flapping in his thin hands. Jared thought he looked like the type to iron his undershirts, and when the doctor began speaking in a clipped, hard tone, Jared's assumption seemed correct.

“My name is Doctor Weinstein. I need to speak with Mr. ... Padalecki?”

Jared stood up when he realized the doctor hadn’t a clue who he was. The man ushered Jared into a small room across the hall.

“I regret to tell you reattaching the finger is out of the question, but I don’t think that’s news to you,” the doctor said succinctly. “Your partner’s nose is fractured but the rest of his facial structure is undamaged, and after examining the injury we believe no surgery will be necessary.

“His electrolytes are abnormal but that’s being corrected as we speak. He does have a mild arrhythmia so we’re carefully monitoring him. We also gave him a light sedative but he’s alert enough…”

“Wait a minute, he’s awake?” Jared asked.

“Yes, he regained consciousness twenty minutes ago,” Dr. Weinstein curtly answered. “Do you want to see him?”

Jared nodded frantically and finished his water bottle as his mouth suddenly dried up. Now that he knew Jensen was out of danger he was suddenly flooded with memories of how their last conversation went. His angry words mocked him and Jared wondered what Jensen would do when he saw him. Would he blame Jared for his pitiful state? After all, it was because of Jared’s money that Jensen was kidnapped and mutilated.

The doctor opened a door to a spacious room and stepped aside to let Jared in. He then discreetly closed the door behind the anxious husband as Jared slowly made his way to the bed hidden from view.

“Jensen?” Jared hoarsely said when he saw his husband.

Jensen opened his eyes and saw Jared standing next to him. He blinked slowly then said, “Are you okay?”

Jared’s legs collapsed underneath him, nearly sending him sprawling on the floor. Jensen reached out to grab him but winced as the sudden movement caused him to feel a large spike of pain in spite of the heavy medication. Jared saw Jensen's pallor worsen and scrambled onto the bed, burying his face in Jensen’s chest while wrapping his arms tightly around him. Jared wanted to apologize, to make promises but no words came out, only broken, keening noises as he wept.

Jared felt Jensen curl around him; his embrace was surprisingly strong and Jared sunk deeper into the protective cocoon Jensen made with his body.

“Shhh,” Jensen whispered, “it’s okay. It’s okay. I’m not mad. No way. I’m alive and we’re going to be fine. That’s all that matters to me.”

Jared couldn’t look at Jensen’s face when he asked, “How can you say that?”

“Easily,” Jensen answered. “It could’ve been so much worse. This … this is just a bump on the road, a bad one but still, only a bump.”

Jared was shocked enough to forget his reluctance to face his husband. He looked at Jensen and realized the man was speaking honestly. “How can you think that after everything you’ve been through?”

Jensen looked thoughtful as he said, “It’s a choice, Jared. I’m not saying it’s going to be easy but the choice to live my life as I see fit is still mine, no matter what the bastards did to me. You can’t sell something like that or have someone steal it from you. The only way you lose that power is if you give it up.”

Jared stole a glance at Jensen’s disfigured left hand and shivered uncontrollably. Realizing what he had just done he looked up at Jensen with frightened eyes. “I’m sorry…”

“It’s okay,” Jensen said and weakly nuzzled Jared's damp hair. “I tossed a few cookies when I saw it earlier.”

“Did … did they give you something when they cut it off?” Jared asked weakly.

“No, I was out when they did it. I tried to escape and nearly made it too. Got caught on the stairs. The doctor said they used a taser. He also said they gave me a narcotic to keep me sedated.”

“Why did you do that?”

“I couldn’t trust them hold up their end of the bargain,” Jensen answered. “They could’ve left me in that room to die, Jared.”

Jared buried his face into the crook of Jensen’s neck and shoulder. He took deep breaths, trying to calm himself. Of course Jensen would do something so fantastically dangerous; his husband was one of the few people Jared knew who could calmly calculate death into a scenario and then let it play out anyway.

“Didn’t you speak with Chris?” Jensen asked.

Jared blinked dumbly, “What?”

“Chris Kane. The guy said he was with Ferris’ firm. He came by earlier and we talked for a bit.”

“Not yet. He’s probably running around, trying to secure the area or do some other military maneuver to make sure this hospital’s impregnable.”

“He was a bit tense when we talked,” Jensen said with a tired smile. “I’m guessing this took out a lot from everyone.”

“Jensen, don’t worry about the rest of us, and that includes Anna. She’s probably doing the best out of all of us, actually.”

“Daddy’s little girl,” Jensen said with fierce pride.

“That she is,” Jared added and kissed him lightly. “Rest, and I’ll come by later with her, okay?”

Jensen nodded and pulled up the blanket until it reached his chin. Then he snuggled into his bed, curled on his right side. The position made him look about nine and Jared felt his eyes sting. He sneaked a glance at the heart monitor and took some comfort in its steady rhythm.

Jared knew Jensen was all too correct when he said it won’t be easy, but at least they had a chance now. So, easy or hard, Jared was going to fight to keep his family together. It took too much sacrifice, mostly on Jensen’s part, for him to understand and accept that a family such as his meant everything.

Jeff was waiting for him in the hallway. “He’s a strong man.”

Jared nodded and rubbed his face. “I don’t understand where it comes from. I would’ve been a basket case if I were in his shoes.”

Jeff looked at him with open surprise. “You’re kidding, right?”

“No,” Jared replied, successfully repressing a twitch of annoyance. “What?”

“He’s that strong because he loves you, Mr. Padalecki,” Jeff said. “That’s his source of strength. He was damn good at that job of his because he loved what he was doing. That kind of simplicity is virtually unheard of these days, but your husband seems to be the exception to practically every rule I know of."

Jared couldn’t answer. Of course he knew what Jeff was saying. He’s seen Jensen’s devotion to his job but Jared never paused to consider he was deserving enough to fit in the same category. After all, there was a huge difference between a spoiled playboy and a life-affirming job working for the dying and the forgotten.

Jeff puffed out a noise that sounded like a cross between a snort and a laugh. “For a man who’s made Fortune 500 for five years straight you’re pretty fucking clueless.”

“I’m beginning to get that.”

“Why don’t you rest," Jeff said. "My men and I aren't going anywhere for a while."

“How secure are we in this hospital?” Jared asked.

“Beth Israel has a private contract with Ferris’ firm. None of her clients are in the books, and since this wing is not only private but self-sufficient, 99.99% of the general hospital staff doesn’t have a damn clue what’s going on here.

“Also, Dr. Weinstein was a client of hers. Can’t tell you what we did for him but he’s grateful enough to keep the information on this particular group of patients off the main database. Mostly, he tells people he’s either got an Aerosmith band member or somebody from the Red Sox up here.”

“Were there any Red Sox players up here?”

Jeff nodded, “Oh yeah, and two members from Aerosmith. Weinstein has their photos on his wall to prove it too.”

Jared was appeased enough with Jeff's explanation to return to his room. He found Anna fast asleep in his bed with both dogs. Jared pushed aside Harley to squeeze in besides his daughter before caving into his exhaustion.

Chris caught a glimpse of them from the balcony before making the last call to Jim. The conversation was brief and lasted for all of five seconds. Afterwards, he threw the cell phone over the side of the balcony and watched it shatter on the roof of the building adjacent to the hospital.

* * *

  
**Bogotá, Colombia**

Samuel Trent loved his job. He spent his informative years listening attentively to his father on the topic of banks and the heartless bastards who ran them. Not surprisingly his vitriol was mainly fueled by alcohol which ended up killing him before Samuel turned fifteen. After witnessing his mother weep over the fact she could barely pay for the funeral, Samuel made up his mind to make enough money to ensure at least he would be able to comfortably afford his.

Trent joined The Bennet Finance Group right after graduating from University of Edinburgh. Through the years he quickly worked his way up the corporate chain, and just when he thought his success was a guarantee, it all fell apart. It still shocked Trent that an investment firm would fire him because he made _too_ much money. He would be the first to admit he took some shortcuts but he made sure he stayed in the grey. And yet this was more than enough for Mr. Bennet, the CEO, to put an end to Trent's meteoric career. It didn’t take long after his dismissal for Trent to realize his former boss had poisoned his reputation to the point that he couldn’t get a job in the secretarial pool.

Trent came to Bogotá with what money he had saved and found plenty of people willing to look the other way when it came to his unique set of skills. But no matter how tempted he was, Trent remained in the grey, ensuring that Bacatá Banco Internacional would survive certain level of scrutiny from abroad and at home. The bribes came in handy of course, and his clients had a special way of dealing with stubborn people, so it wasn’t long before both his and his bank's reputation grew to international proportions.

September 11 definitely put a damper in his business dealings, but greed had a way of outlasting even grief, and Trent was positive things would return to normal before long.

The purr of the outlandishly outfitted Humvee drew his attention to the window. Like clockwork, Señor Hecker pulled up in front of the bank. The Dane’s history with the Southern Valley Cartel was still a mystery to Trent, not that the man was so bold as to actually ask how Hecker got involved. Trent knew what to do with his curiosity – hide it when it came to the Cartels.

He was getting the briefcase ready for Hecker when the explosion blew out all his office windows. The car alarms rang through the night, as did the screams of tourists who were dining in the expensive restaurants across the street. Trent knew better than to look out the window. Instead he scrambled to his hidden vault and hid the briefcase along with his personal laptop. Then he went to the bathroom to make sure he looked presentable when the police arrived.

After all, he did have a reputation to maintain.

* * *

  
**February, 2008  
Riyadh, Saudi Arabia**

Welk rubbed his aching neck and watched with open hatred as Ferris took the seat across from his. The last thing he expected was to be forcibly dragged into a public arena such as the lobby of the Four Seasons. How Ferris’ men didn’t catch any unwanted attention attested to their professional ability to operate under stressful and certainly dangerous conditions.

“Hello, Tom,” Ferris said with a beautiful smile as she crossed her legs. The woman had a good a taste in clothes as she did in firearms.

“All I need to do is scream,” Welk hissed.

“I know that,” Ferris said. “I just thought you’d like to return with us under your own volition instead of in a casket.”

“I have plenty of security.”

“They were good, I’ll give them that. But they weren’t good enough, Tom, or haven’t you noticed?”

“So what?”

“This is what: either you come back with me now or I’ll send an e-mail to my field operatives about what you’ve done. And then I’ll just release all the relevant data and watch them hunt you down.

"Do you really think that my people would forgive and forget? You fucked with their pensions, Tom – their futures and their children's. They’re not going to walk away from that. In fact, the six men I brought with me are more than willing to put a hole in your head just on principle alone.”

Welk paled considerably but dared not look around. He knew what Ferris’ soldiers were capable of. In fact, it was easier to write down what they wouldn’t do than what they would.

“So, come back to the States with me, or I walk out of here and wait maybe twelve hours before fetching your corpse? What do you say, Tom?”

“You’re a fucking bitch, you know that?”

“Maybe, but I’m also pretty damn sure I’m the scariest bitch you’ll ever come across.”

Ferris stood up and smoothed her skirt. Then she held out her arm and Welk linked it with his like a gentleman. The two left together, looking like old lovers out for a leisurely stroll before dinner.

* * *

  
**February, 2008  
Concord, New Hampshire**

Jim took a sip of the hot chocolate and sat back to watch the natives bustle about their business, even if they were almost waist-deep in snow. He couldn’t believe he was finally back in the States. Though he would’ve preferred somewhere warmer, Jim could understand why Chris had chosen this snowy capital as his new home. It was populated enough for Jim to run a successful bookstore, and close enough to the Canadian border that should the need arise he could take off.

Jim was careful not to keep anything of his life as Max Zweig. As far as the Colombian authorities knew, Zweig’s boat disintegrated half-mile from Cartagena's coast. He made sure the explosives were the type to leave behind residues, so that should anyone be looking for dear old Max, they would assume he was at the bottom of the ocean thanks to someone with access to military hardware.

The day Jim crossed into Arizona from Mexico, he dyed his hair grey. When most people assumed disguises they tried to make themselves look younger, not older. Then he gained twenty pounds with the help of roadside diners. He also bought tacky golf shirts in Denver and Jefferson City, and thus successfully completing his transformation to a middle management retiree by the time he reached New Hampshire.

Jim felt a familiar sense of pride in ownership when he spotted a woman reading the sign he taped up on the store's display window. It would take him another month before he could fully open for business, but Jim could already feel success drifting into his senses. He would have to thank Kane for choosing this particular location as it saw more than its fair share of foot traffic.

 _One year_ , Jim thought as he began putting up more shelves. _Then Chris and Steve could swing by and maybe we could all go hunting, just like old times. Wouldn’t that be something?_

* * *

  
**February, 2008  
Kennebec Island  
Maine, United States**

Jared stepped out on the porch and took a deep breath of the cold Maine air. At first he didn’t think much of his father’s idea of a family get-together on the Padalecki’s summer retreat but now Jared had to admit it was a great plan. The compound was built on a private island off the Southern Maine Coast, and it contained enough rooms to comfortably house everyone, bodyguards included.

He took the small hand-held vacuum hidden under a rocker and quickly took care of frozen cricket carcasses strewn about the door. Anna had thrown a mind-blowing tantrum when he first introduced the idea of spending three weeks in Maine. It was only after their daughter had fallen asleep that Jensen was able to explain about Anna's fear of the cold due to her experience in the orphanage. They were finally able to convince Anna to change her mind when Jared told her about the crickets and the lovely song they make whenever he visited Maine.

Of course that was during summertime. Once they arrived on Kennebec Island it was obvious that the local cricket population wasn’t going to make themselves heard any time soon. Jared became desperate enough to make a trip to the mainland in order to _buy_ crickets. He then released them around the main house in the hopes that Anna wouldn't believe him to be a conniving liar. Unfortunately for the anxious father the insects did what insects always do in Maine winter: die.

The next morning, when Jared went outside for what was suppose to be a stroll with Anna, he found himself ankle-deep in cricket carnage. He frantically buried the frozen corpses into a snow bank before Anna joined him. Since then, they always found dead crickets littered about the grounds. So, it became a part of morning household chore – make coffee; clean up dead crickets before Anna could find them; cook breakfast; wake others.

If this mad business ended with some surreptitious sweeping and vacuuming, it would’ve been fine. Unfortunately few crickets found their way into the basement and made themselves comfortable. For the first few days it was lovely. After that it became quite clear they had outstayed their welcome. Four fathers went cricket hunting but were unable to destroy the noisy invaders. But Jared was pretty sure the problem wouldn’t remain one for long. He heard the cook talking to Justin: as soon as the families left, the staff was going to fumigate the entire house.

Jared heard his father’s firm footfall and turned around.

“I see you did the cricket duties,” Gerald said with a wide grin.

“You’re never going to let me live it down, are you?”

Gerald laughed and shook his head, “No, never, and you mother’s not about to either.”

Jared took a sip of his coffee then turned to his father, his face composed and serious. “Dad, I wanted to tell you – I’m going to resign from the company.”

“I wondered if you were. Don’t think I’m not disappointed because I am. But I understand, I really do.”

“I’m just glad you’re not mad,” Jared said with a huge sigh of relief.

“Son, I built the company because that was my dream. I didn’t raise you and put you through school just so you could give up your dreams. I’ve seen fathers do that to their children and I can honestly say it’s the closest thing to cannibalism I’ve witnessed.”

Gerald bumped his shoulder against Jared’s. “Now, you have to tell me something: why did you take my job in the first place?”

Jared smiled a little and shook his head. “Jensen got a job offer to help set up a hospice in India. It was going to take him six months so I couldn’t go with him. I just got scared, Dad. I thought that once he went back to doing what he loved best, he would realize I had no place in his life.

“So, I decided to settle down for both of us. Become a responsible CEO, buy a house, and start talking about marriage. That way I was guaranteed to have Jensen with me, no matter where his job took him.”

“Why did you think he was going to leave you?”

“God vs. me, I just couldn’t imagine coming out as the winner in that scenario.”

“Jensen isn’t the type to pit you against anyone, especially God. He’s not that cruel.”

“I know that now, but back then … he was so different from the people I usually hang out with, I didn’t know what to do! I just couldn’t risk losing him. Not then and not now.”

“So, the tower is going to be your last project?”

“Yeah, after that, we’ll see where we land.”

“Jensen will land like a cat, you – like a rhino that just downed an entire bottle of Scotch whisky.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“That’s what I’m here for, son.” Gerald glanced at his watch. “We better go in and see what your mother’s up to. For the record I’m glad your mother’s into ethnic meals, but I really don’t want another curry dish for breakfast. The damn thing gives me gas.”

“Did you see Jessie’s face when mom asked her to cook dim sum for Sunday brunch? I thought she was going to break down and cry.”

Gerald’s face broke into a large grin. “Remind me to give Jessie a nice bonus before we leave. Holy Jesus did she earn it.”

To the relief of both men it was Jensen who had commandeered the kitchen with Anna’s help. Bacon was sizzling in the pan and multiple stacks of waffles towered on their plates.

“I wanted give Jessie a break,” Jensen said as he mixed in blueberries with the batter. “She looked under the weather last night.”

Jared gave a sly glance towards his father but said nothing. As Jensen poured the batter into the waffle maker Jared set up the table.

“Jared, I talked to Justin earlier. He’s going to look for another position when we leave here,” Jensen said softly.

“Why?” Jared asked, honestly surprised.

“Justin wanted to quit for a while but decided to wait until things settled down,” Jensen said. “He said it’s about time he started another career, and I think he’s right.”

“We’re going to have to look long and hard to find a replacement,” Jared grumbled. “Does he have any plans?”

“He’s thinking about finishing his studies in education.”

“He’d make a good teacher,” Jared said.

Gerald nodded, “I have to agree. The man’s got the patience of a saint and nothing gets past him. Two qualities you definitely need to be a good teacher.”

“What about a good teacher?” Sharon asked as she entered the kitchen.

“Talking about the qualities one needs to be a teacher,” Jensen said.

“Mind reading,” Sharon quipped, “and the ability to smell BS from a mile away, or at least down the hall.”

“Grandmamma, what’s BS?” Anna asked innocently.

“Bologna stories, my dear. Also known as really bad fairytales,” Sharon said.

Jensen hid his smile by sipping his coffee. As the families trickled down to the kitchen the conversations got louder and more boisterous, but he had little problem holding private talks with Jared when he wanted to.

* * *

  
**March, 2008  
San Diego, United States**

“What you want to see me about?” Jeff asked.

“You’ll want to sit down first,” Sam said as she pulled out a folder and handed it to him.

Jeff’s eyes grew wide as he read the few pieces of paper filed in it. “Holy shit, they’re dead?”

“Both Harlan and Jackson. Eric personally confirmed their identities.”

“So, they died two days days after they got the ransom?”

“Looks like,” Sam said.

“Doesn’t make sense,” Jeff said, frowning. “What did they do? Screw over the cartel they were hoping to do business with?”

“Maybe, but that would’ve been catastrophically stupid on their part. And they didn’t strike me as stupid,” Sam said.

“So, what happened?”

“I did a little digging. The night of the ransom payment, a bomb went off killing one Mr. Hecker, a well-known associate of the Southern Valley Cartel. What interests me is that he was killed while parking his car in front of Bacatá Banco Internacional.”

“Any suspects?”

Sam shook her head, “The police found enough trace evidence to deduce that the bomb was made out of explosives commonly used by our soldiers. Not so surprising since we have a habit of leaving so much shit behind, but it is interesting, isn’t it?”

“Definitely,” Jeff agreed, lost in thought. “So Southern Valley thought Harlan and his men double-crossed them and killed them? Is that about right?”

“Looks like,” Sam said lightly, “but why would they in the first place?”

“Maybe they made a better deal with the Rojo family,” Jeff said.

“Maybe, but last I checked, the money’s still sitting in the bank,” Sam said as she put the folder into a locked drawer.

“Really? That is interesting.” Jeff took another glance at the folder containing the autopsy reports. "But I'm not surprised. If Harlan changed his mind and decided to go into bed with the Rojo family, he would've kept mum about the deal with Southern Valley. After Hecker's murdered, the Rojos found out what Harlan did. They wisely decided not to touch the money because the last thing the Rojos want is a full-scale civil war with the only other cartel powerful enough to destroy them."

“That sounds very plausible. But I’m thinking, maybe there’s someone out there who wanted Southern Valley to think they were screwed over.”

“Because?”

“To get Harlan and Jackson out of the way,” Sam answered.

“Chris and Steve were with me the entire time. There’s no way they could’ve arranged something like this. They don’t have the necessary resources.”

“Too bad we can’t ask them,” Sam said.

“What? Why not?” Jeff asked.

“They both resigned as of Monday. Steve said they wanted jobs that weren’t so stressful.”

Jeff shook his head, “What do you think?”

“Me? I think Harlan got greedy and his former partner made him pay for it in blood. At least that’s what the evidence tells me.”

"Do you know where Chris and Steve are heading?"

"They said something about setting up shop in Alaska," Sam answered.

Jeff stood up. “I’m going to miss the Midwich Cuckoos.”

“Me too,” Sam said.

“What about Welk?”

“We’re definitely making progress in that department.”

“Good,” Jeff said. “I’m going to take the rest of the afternoon off. It’s my son’s birthday and we’ve got a big day ahead.”

Sam smiled and waved her hand towards the door, “Speak no more. Have fun!”

“We will.”

Jeff found himself whistling Johnny Cash's tunes he made his way to the car.


	7. Chapter 7

**Epilogue**

Jared took a deep breath and coughed loudly. He shook his head ruefully; seriously, he should realize by now that New York City air was never going to be clean enough – not even in December. For the fifth time in as many minutes Jared glanced at his watch. He knew Jensen liked to be early so the fact he was actually late drove Jared’s anxiety level sky-high.

Jared took deep breaths in order to stop himself from falling into a panic attack. Not surprisingly, after the ordeal it was Jared who had the worst time recovering. Both Anna and Jensen bounced back relatively quickly as their past experiences gave them the ability to deal with the kidnapping. Jared, on the other hand, paid bitterly for the cushy lifestyle he had lived before Jensen was ripped away from him.

For months Jensen had to endure Jared trailing after him like a shadow, not to mention the multiple phone calls from his husband the moment Jensen left his side. And yet Jensen never once lost his patience or understanding. It was this display of loyalty that finally forced Jared to agree to Jensen's appeal to see a marriage counselor. It was nerve wrecking for both men, but after four months of intensive therapy they both knew they were not only going to make it but do so together.

“Hey, daydreamer,” Jensen said from behind him.

Jared whirled around, “Where’d you come from?”

“Back entrance. There wasn’t any place for the car to park out front so Marcus had to drive around to the alley.”

Jared scowled. Another thing he hated about New York – no place to fucking park a car!

Jensen studied the lobby with admiration. “This is going to be something else! Your father must be so proud of you.”

Jared nodded, “Yeah, he’s pretty amazed by the entire thing. He saw the conceptual drawings, but still, nothing beats the real thing. Come on, let me show you the center of all this madness.”

“How many floors?” Jensen asked as the elevator doors closed.

“Ninety-three. From the lobby to the fifth floor, it’s going to be a combination of retail and restaurants. From sixth to the seventy-first, private businesses mixed with public interest groups. And from seventy-second to the ninety-third, all private residence.”

“Public interest?” Jensen echoed. “Really? Can they afford to rent in a building like this?”

“Tax write-off, at least for me, but yeah, I discussed it with Marissa and she came up with a solid plan. We’re going to have at least seven offices dedicated to pediatric care: child welfare including domestic and foreign adoption.”

“Are you serious?” Jensen's face revealed both his confusion and astonishment.

“I thought it’d be a nice way to ensure that the door doesn’t get slammed on us when we look to adopt again.”

“Jared…” Jensen couldn’t finish his sentence as the elevator door slid open to chaos.

“Welcome to my lair,” Jared said with a grand sweep of his arms.

“Holy shit,” Jensen said as he studied the mass of people moving about, shouting random things into phones and at each other. “This is worse than the floor of the Stock Exchange.”

“Isn’t it?” Jared said proudly. “And I'm responsible for all of it!”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know, but I’m told this is how New Yorkers like to do business, so what the hell? When in Rome and all that.”

Something flew by their faces. Jensen was almost positive it was a cell phone. Jared, on the other hand, ignored the flying debris and navigated Jensen over to his corner office. When Jared shut the door behind him, the glass walls suddenly became opaque.

“That is cool,” Jensen said as he touched the foggy glass.

“It is. We would’ve used it for bathroom stalls but they’re not soundproof. So we’re using them for shower stalls instead.”

Jensen burst out in laughter that could be clearly heard outside Jared's office.

“Seriously, that’s way too much sharing even for New Yorkers and they’ve seen it all,” Jared said with a wide grin as he watched Jensen slowly regain his composure.

“Jared…” Jensen's voice thinned out to a small wheeze when he finally read the banner behind Jared’s desk.

Jared’s smile turned soft and meaningful as Jensen’s eyes widened in shock.

“Yeah, I wanted to tell you – this building’s called Ross Tower, not Padalecki Tower.”

“Jared,” Jensen said in a weak voice, “are you sure you want to do that?”

“I’m sure, Jensen. I’m very sure.”

“What made you want to name it after me?”

“It’s what you said to me after the Twin Towers fell,” Jared said as he stood up and sat on the desk in front of Jensen. “You said evil can win but it can never prevail. That there are still enough people in the world who know what ‘civil’ part of civilization means and will always, always do their best to triumph over those who don’t.

“Coming from someone who’s seen evil win day after day, your words made an impression on me. I want others to know in a roundabout way that what you said is true. So ... yeah, that’s why this building exists in the first place, and why it’s named after you.”

“That’s probably the nicest thing you ever said to me, and that’s including your marriage proposal.”

“That wouldn’t be hard since I upchucked all over your shoes right after I asked you to marry me.”

“You shouldn’t have drank so much tequila. I thought you were planning to get trashed, not hitched.”

Jared leaned forward and kissed his husband. Unfortunately, a harried woman opened the door before he got any tongue action.

Jared sighed. “Nicky, I'd like you to meet my husband.”

“Yeah, whatever, no offense but the problem with residence 19 isn't going away.”

“We’re not installing a pool in their goddamn condo!”

“They’re threatening to break the contract if they don't get it!”

“I don’t care! There’s a huge ass pool in the club they can use 24/7!”

“They say the club’s not exclusive enough for them.”

“Really? Then tell them they’re not qualified to make that judgment since they don’t meet the requirements to get a club membership. That oughta cool their tongues.”

Nicky paused for a moment. “I think I just had a brain-gasm. Nice to meet you Jensen!”

Jensen barely managed to choke back his laughter as Nicky stormed out of the office. “Is it always like this?”

“This is a huge improvement actually,” Jared replied. “So, where are we having dinner?”

“Home,” Jensen said. “I’m going to take Anna skating at Bryant Park.”

“Why not Rockefeller?”

“Tourists skate at Rockefeller; New Yorkers use Bryant Park, mainly because it’s free.”

“Ahh, I see. Okay, then, I’ll be home by six.”

“Which means?”

“Seven, if the traffic’s nice,” Jared amended sheepishly.

“Sounds good. We'll see you at seven.” Jensen said before wrestling Jared into a passionate kiss.

As Jensen left the office he heard Jared shout, “That’s cheating!!”

“Welcome to New York!” Jensen yelled back.

He stepped out into the cold night and was immediately hustled off into the waiting truck by Marcus. The bodyguard cautiously turned the GMC behemoth onto Sixth and came immediately to a standstill because of a taxi stuck behind a delivery truck. Since they had moved to Manhattan in early August Jensen had become impervious to the frequent traffic jams that incessantly throttled the city streets. He also quickly learned to entertain himself by watching shoppers, tourists, and workers bustling about.

Living in Manhattan was by no means easy. There were more than few occasions where Jensen was tempted to convince Jared to return to California, but he never voiced his concerns. Instead, he spent his time establishing his non-profit organization in the city - a city, that despite its reputation, contained very generous people.

Anna faced her own special set of problems when she started first grade, but by November she was settled in and had made few close friends. Jensen met the two little girls whom Anna called 'dear hearts' and thought them refreshingly untouched by their parents' wealth and social standing. The three of them made a funny group as they cared nothing of their fellow students' gossiping and materialistic outlook. What they chose to do instead was to set up playdates involving the city's many museums and libraries. Jared's hilarious recount involving a priceless Rembrandt and two harried museum guards still made Jensen smile whenever he remembered the story.

Since the car wasn't going anywhere for a while Jensen decided to use the time to finalize their plans for the winter holidays. While reviewing the Christmas card list Jensen realized that between August and December the three of them had finally turned the corner and moved on from the horror of last Christmas. Each of them had accomplished this feat privately, but the family unit had become stronger for it. This was enough to finally convince Jensen that they were going to be fine. And he knew the old saying only too well: if they could make it here, they could make it anywhere.

**The End**

* * *

  
I'll make my ramble quick and painless. This entire story was written in the first place by [this](http://community.livejournal.com/padacklesrps/840782.html) prompt by [](https://prettifuls-pout.livejournal.com/profile)[**prettifuls_pout**](https://prettifuls-pout.livejournal.com/). It was the caffeine that fueled this fire for months and helped me cross the finish line.

I did write in detail about the stunt Jensen pulled in order to get away, but in real life I wouldn't try it unless I really **am** that desperate. Though the story about killing someone by hitting their nose is an urban legend, it's quite possible to accomplish the gruesome task by fracturing the person's face.

As for the various information regarding money transfers and kidnapping, they came from wide range of reading material; some were reliable, some weren't so reliable as they were entertaining. I am sad to report the kidnapping industry is a thriving business and unfortunately will continue to be one for a long, long time. So, firms like Ferris' definitely exist, especially since corporations are building branch offices and factories in unstable countries (or stable ones, for that matter).


End file.
